IN DREAMS : THE TRUE & FACTUALLY ACCURATE TALE of SLEEPING BEAUTY
by Chick Feed
Summary: CASE FIC (Not AU): On warm days, the green eyed gardener worked bare chested. The Princess, turning 17 in 2 days time, liked to take frequent walks, on warm days. All is good, until the Keeper of the Books rips apart the life the gardener & his best friend thought they had. Now, to save who they really are, a prophesy must not come to fruition, or they die. H/C, Angst
1. Chapter 1

**IN DREAMS :** **THE TRUE & FACTUALLY ACCURATE TALE of SLEEPING BEAUTY**

 _On warm days, he worked in the gardens naked from the waist up. Princess Brier-Rose had begun taking lots of walks, though only on_ _warm_ _days.  
_ _Her birthday is in two days time, and the green eyed gardener agrees to help his best friend complete a quest given by the_ _Keeper of the Books.  
_ _A prophesy made when Brier-Rose was named must not come to fruition. The lives of more than the princess alone depend on it._

 _Prologue_

-oOo-

As the princess strolled by, head bowed, long blonde hair hiding her features, her four ladies-in-waiting trailing behind her began to giggle. Without raising her head, the princess gazed from under hooded eyes through the curtain of her hair at the cause of the giggling amongst her ladies, and felt herself blush. Certain the flush to her cheeks would only serve to highlight her prettiness, she wasn't too concerned. Of late, however, the sight of the gardener, or rather his well muscled torso, working shirtless in the warmth of the day, sweat glistening, highlighting his pecs and the eight ridges of abdominal muscles, was having a strange impact on her in other places, _private_ places, and she liked it. On the pretence that she was losing the golden slipper off one perfectly formed and dainty foot, she came to a stop. Bending over gracefully, she pretended to re-settle her slipper, all the while letting her eyes roam slowly over the gardener's physique. Imagining his tanned and muscular arms enfolding her, pulling her into a close embrace. Her gaze rested on the gardener's slim hips before following the line of golden downy hair that began below his navel, running over the soft rise of his belly, leading her down to where the trail disappeared under the low slung waistband of his tight calf skin breeches.

"May I help you, Your Highness?"

Her musings were interrupted by the oldest of her ladies, the Princess straightened up hurriedly.

"No...Thank you."

Lady Garritass' eyes flicked from the pretty flush on the Princess' cheeks, to where the gardener worked, and back at the princess; who lifted her pert little nose in the air haughtily when she realised she had been caught out.

Lady Garritass glanced coyly over to the gardener again.

"Would Your Highness like to take time to inspect the rose boarders? I believe they will very soon be in full flower."

Trained from the day she could walk, the Princess maintained a perfectly neutral exterior, as if going anywhere near the rose boarders... _And him_...held no interest for her what-so-ever.

"Then I shall consider inspecting them at _that_ time, and not before. You may all escort me back to the palace then leave me alone in my chambers. I have an utterly complex piece of embroidery to finish, and I must be free to concentrate."

Lady Garritass was wise enough to know that what the princess was actually saying was, _I wish to laze around on my daybed, daydream about the gardener and address those funny feelings that thinking about him causes; just like any other normal, healthy young woman who has recently discovered fun things to do in private._ She dropped a deep curtsy.

"As you wish, my Princess."

-o-

The gardener turned, his green eyes bright with amusement, watching as Princess Brier-Rose's retinue began tripping up over themselves to catch up with the unexpectedly speedy pace set by the princess as she suddenly changed direction and headed back towards the palace. He briefly wondered what it was that had triggered the princess' rapid about turn?

"Hey! Deannick _(Dee-ann- nik)_ Will I be seein' you down at the tavern tonight?"

A large hand clapped the gardener in the centre of his back and he turned, grinning, to look up into the hazel eyes of his best friend, a sergeant in the King's archers.

"Where else would I be Sam? Winner at the popinjay buys?"

"You're on...And it's _Sampson_."

-oOo-

 _Chapter 1  
_ -oOo-

"I just don't understand you, my friend. We could really use someone as skilled with the bow as you are. Why can't you accept that you were born to be an archer?"

"Why can't _you_ accept that I love being a gardener?"

Sampson handed his friend a tankard of ale and sat down opposite Deannick at a wooden bench table in the busy Crimson Moon tavern.

"Because you're a better archer than most of the Kings own archers, and yet you spend your days fiddling with your foliage."

The foamy head on Deannick's ale sprayed over the table top when he snorted with laughter while he was about to drink. He used the back of his doublet sleeve to wipe away the foam hanging off his nose.

"Really...Whereas you archers spend all day polishing your shafts! _So_ much more fulfilling."

Sampson grinned and winked.

"Absolutely it is... _Bertha_ , my lovely. What can me and my green fingered friend do for you?"

Sampson greeted the dark haired tavern wench as she approached their table, grabbing hold of her hand, turning her and easily pulling her down onto his knee. Giving Sampson a good natured slap, she just as easily slipped out of his grasp and stood up again.

"Why do you hang about with this wanna be jester Deannick? Surely you've got other friends?"

Sampson answered before Deannick could.

"Because I'm _way_ more fun than they are, and because he loves me like a brother. Isn't that right Dee?"

Deannick rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like a complete pain in the ass _little_ brother."

Bertha glanced at Sampson in amusement then looked back at Deannick.

"You're kiddin' right? Sam here is nobody's _little_ anythin'!"

Sampson's smile grew broader.

"You got _that_ right beautiful, who's been talking?...And, it's Sampson."

Deannick paused with his tankard half way to his lips.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you? Size doesn't matter. I'm the oldest, by four years, so that would make _me_ the big brother and _you_ would be little Sammy _,_ my itty bitty _baby_ brother..."

Bertha held up one hand.

"You can argue this out on your own. Kelper has asked me to collect names for the story telling challenge later. Either of you two givin' it a go?"

Deannick shook his head.

"Not me. Sampson here's the one with the tales of daring do."

Sampson disagreed.

"That's not entirely true. I saw you only yesterday...You _single handedly_ took down that thorny thing that was trying to climb up the palace wall. Not only did you defeat it, you managed to walk away without a scratch!"

"Ahh, but...That's _nothing_ compared to you _, Sammy_. I saw _you_ yesterday as well... It was unbelievable Bertha. He was completely on his own and carrying just six arrows, but that hay bale? It had no chance. Hit it with all six. Shot it dead he did. Now _that's_ what I call heroic!"

Bertha looked from one to the other.

"I'm takin' that as a _no_ from the both of you then. Enjoy the rest of your evenin', an' _Sam_? I'll be sure to shout for you if I see any threatenin' hay bales hangin' around."

"It's _Sampson_!"

-o-

When the story challenge came around, there were only four contestants, including the landlord himself, Kelper. Once all four contestants had told their story, the winner was then decided by who drew the loudest and longest round of applause from the audience. Kelper, an enthusiastic showman, quite often won, and it sounded like that was going to be the case that night, until the tavern door swung open while the audience were enthusiastically clapping and whistling Kelper's tale. A solid figure stood motionless, silhouetted in the tavern doorway.

 **"** ** _HOLD_** **!"**

The newcomer's powerful and commanding voice carried easily above all the cheers and the banging of hands on the table tops. There was instant silence. He stepped forward into the candle lit tavern, and a murmur began to spread amongst the drinkers once they saw who it was that had joined them. The Keeper of the Books scanned the whole of the room. Never before had the Keeper come into the tavern and everybody's eyes were on him as they silently waited, all recognising that something huge had either happened or was going to happen, it was the only possible reason for a real Keeper to be here in this place. The Keeper was clutching a book almost as big as a shield. Bound in deep green leather, the tavern candles highlighted the glimmer of gold on the cover. As landlord, it was Kelper's duty to welcome guests. He cleared his throat and bowed low to the Keeper.

"Welcome, Lord, to the Crimson Moon. The finest tavern in all of...

Cutting the landlord off in mid greeting, The Keeper of the Books cast his eye over the silent drinkers.

"I come to this place with a story. A _true_ story. A story that still seeks it's Hero. Perhaps one of you good men here tonight will volunteer to fulfil that role? If you believe you have the right attributes, I ask you to step forward once my story is told. _But_ , be warned, I will not look kindly on time wasters. I am not one to suffer idjits gladly... _Hearken one and all!..._ _ **Once upon a time**_ _..."_

-o-

At the end of his story, the Keeper gazed around at his silent audience, quite a few of whom lowered their eyes when he looked their way.

"So?...Is anyone here going to put themselves forward?...Anyone?...No? Am I to assume that there are no hero's in this establishment tonight?...None at all?...Not even an idjit who _thinks_ he's a hero?"

Sam stared in horror as Deannick raised his hand. The Keeper turned, fixing the gardener with his steady gaze, hitching one sardonic eyebrow.

"I applaud your honesty boy."

-o-

Deannick frowned as nervous laughter spread around the room.

"Huh? _Oh_! No. I'm not...I mean...I just wanted to ask a question!"

The keeper raised one hand to silence the laughter and now looked at the gardener with interest.

"So. Ask it then, boy."

Deannick managed not to react to the swift kick he received from Sampson under the table.

"Your story. It's obviously already written, so how is it possible for _that_ Brier-Rose to be the same person as Her Highness the Princess Brier-Rose?"

"What's your name boy?"

"Deannick. I'm the gardener at the palace."

The Keeper smiled a fraction.

"Gardener eh? Tell me. Have you ever looked at a flower in all it's glory and thought how beautiful it was, but might it be even better were it to come in a different colour?"

He looked at Deannick expectantly, as did their impromptu audience.

" _Oh_. Not rhetorical then? Um, Yes, I suppose."

"And do you know that it is possible to cultivate said flower in such a way so that, eventually, you can make that species of flower bloom in the colour you desired?"

Deannick shook his head.

"I haven't heard of anything like that sir."

The Keeper's smile grew.

"One day, such practice will be common place. The story I have told was written when the princess was named. A gift from an evil old hag who, feeling she had been overlooked, set out the future for Brier-Rose. That future is nearly upon her; and that future _must_ change...It must be made to blossom in a different colour...To achieve this, the story must have a new ingredient added. _A Hero._ Someone not bound to this story, someone with the courage to make a new ending...Tell me, _gardener_. Am I looking at that person right now?"

Deannick flushed as scattered laughter came from various parts of the tavern, the soldiers and warriors who were present finding amusement in the idea of the gardener being the hero that the Keeper was seeking. He lowered his head, ashamed, and felt Sam rise to his feet and stand alongside him.

"I will volunteer to be your hero. _I'll_ take your challenge, Lord Keeper."

The Keeper tilted his head to one side as he gazed at the astonishingly tall young man.

"And you are?"

"Sampson. Sergeant in the King's Own Archers."

The Keeper considered Sampson thoughtfully, and finally gave a brief nod.

"Very well then. I will take the both of you. Please come with me."

-o-

The Keeper of the books turned and strode towards the Tavern exit, clearly expecting Sampson and Deannick to follow on after him. Deannick looked to his friend in confusion.

"But...I didn't put myself forward for anything!"

Sampson grinned.

"I don't think the Keeper cares somehow. Come on gardener, time for you to become a _real_ Hero. Don't worry, I promise you, I'll make it my job to look out for you and to keep you safe."

-oOo-  
 _Thank you for reading. Don't want to give too much away, but I_ ** _promise_** _things will start to make sense! **Please don't give up yet** ;p  
_ (Also, reviews help me to know there are people out there) :D


	2. Chapter 2

_So many thank you's to people who have read, commented and even offered help  
_ _and support on this fic! I can confirm that things get clearer in Chap 3 if you feel  
_ _you can stick with it that far? Hint : I_ haven't _designated it "AU" anywhere. ;p  
_ ** _Chapter 2  
_ -oOo-**

Standing in the chaos that was the Keeper's quarters, Deannick looked at the Keeper's back worriedly.

"Excuse me Lord Keeper, but I don't understand why you've brought _me_ here. _I'm_ no soldier."

The Keeper, helped by Sampson, was busily clearing books, scrolls and documents off two chairs and onto a low table. He waved a hand, directing Deannick to the now usable seat before answering.

"I don't recall _asking_ for a soldier? I believe the word I used was hero?"

Deannick sat himself down, muttering to himself.

"I'm sorry boy, I must be going deaf, didn't quite catch what you're saying?"

Deannick looked directly into the Keeper's eyes.

"I _said_...I believe you _also_ used the word _volunteer_!"

In his newly commandeered chair, Sampson cringed at his friend's directness and his challenging tone. The Keeper and Deannick initially stared at one another in silence. Sampson's relief, when the older man began to chuckle merrily, was profound.

"I have to say, you've got me there my boy. I _did_ use that word, you're absolutely right. Please, accept my apologies. Obviously I will understand if you wish to be on your way...Although...It would be a shame if you _did_ go. It is my belief that you and young Sampson here are _exactly_ the right men for this job."

-o-

The King was sat on his throne, chin in hand, watching his beautiful, though hot headed and argumentative, daughter pace the throne room from side to side, in full blown teenage strop mode. _So like her mother_. Of course, he had been expecting this kind of reaction. So had her mother; which was why the Queen had refused to be the one to tell Brier-Rose that she was to be betrothed during her up-coming birthday ball.

"It's just not _fair_!"

 _There was that word again._

"You _utterly_ can't do this!"

"Actually, sweetheart, yes I can. I _am_ King, after all."

"Right...King _Dufus_!"

"Language my dear."

Princess Brier-Rose stopped her pacing and swung around to glare at her father, her long hair racing to keep up with the sharp turn of her head.

" _What_? Oh! I _get it_. I'm utterly old enough to be betrothed, but I'm _not_ old enough to say the word _dufus_?"

"Ahh, progress. See? You're catching on."

"Excuse me? What's _that_ supposed to mean? If I say _dufus_ again you'll slap me?"

The King sighed and shuffled around a little on his throne, trying to get comfortable on the ridiculously ornate, straight backed seat.

"Darling...You know perfectly well, I've _never_ slapped you. Not once."

Brier-Rose's hands went to her slender hips.

"Maybe not...But I bet you _wished_ you had, _plenty_ of times!... _Dufus_!"

 _Ohhh; if you only knew_ "Not at all my dear. Wouldn't _dream_ of it! Never!"

"Whatever...You _do_ realise that you've _utterly_ ruined my birthday ball? _In fact_ , you might as well go ahead and just cancel the stupid thing 'cos I don't even _want_ a birthday ball anymore. And I bet you're probably _happy_ about it as well, 'cos it'll save you a whole _heap_ of money! It's _sooo_ not fair"

The King was starting to have vivid images of a slipper, and a shiny red princess sized bottom.

"Not doable, sweetheart. It's _far_ too late to cancel everything."

"Fine! Go ahead and have _yourself_ a ball then, and I hope everybody laughs at you when you so called _dance_ and that you really pig out on _my_ birthday cake and make yourself puke up. Just don't expect _me_ to be there, because I _won't_ be!... _And,_ you can utterly forget it if you think I'll come out of my chambers so you can show me off to some grotesque Baron Fat Old Fart either!...I utterly _hate_ you!"

"He's a Prince, not a Baron. Your mother and I want what's best for you."

"Liar! If you did you wouldn't do this to me...And anyway, I don't _care_ if he's a Prince. For one they're all gay and, for another, all it means is he's a more _important_ grotesque fat old fart...And I _still_ utterly hate you!...King _Dufus..._ The dufus King of dufus land!^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^... _Dufus_."

"Really my sweet. _Please_ stop saying that word. It doesn't become you and daddy doesn't like it."

"So? Like I _care_! Know what? I wish I'd never even been _born_!"

The King bit his lip to stop himself saying something he might regret later. Queen Abbedon walked into the throne room just in time for her daughter to shove past her and race off up the wide corridor, sobbing angry tears as she ran.

"Glad to see the talk went well dear."

The King rolled his eyes.

" _Screw you_...My love."

-o-

The princess was lying face down on her bed crying heartily and pounding her pillow with her delicate fists.

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. And I hate mother _too;_ only not as much."

Lady Garritass sat on the edge of the princess' bed rubbing circles on Brier-Rose's back and letting the girl have her drama queen moment.

"I hate them _both._ I wish I'd never been born to them. I never _chose_ to be a rotten Princess! I wish I'd been born to a _poor_ person. Then I would've been able to have anything I wanted, _do_ whatever I wanted and _marry_ whoever I wanted! It's not _fair_!"

Rolling her eyes at the princess' naivety, the Lady in Waiting spotted an opportunity to lighten her charge's mood, and grabbed on to it gratefully.

"Go on then, Your Highness. Tell me. Who would it be? Who would you _choose_ to marry if you could have _anyone_? _Anyone_ at _all_?"

The princess' eyes lit up and her sobs stopped abruptly. Smiling, she rolled over onto her back and stretched languidly.

"Oooo, that's _easy_. The palace gardener. I would marry _him_ , he's _sooo_ beautiful. Promise you won't tell anyone? But, I think about him like, _all_ the time...Even when I'm just thinking about him, it makes my heart thump faster and I get butterflies in my stomach and...Well... _other..._ Um _..._ Things. _Feelings_. I mean feelings. I get all sorts of feelings when I look at him because, you know, he's so gorgeous."

-o-

Lady Garritass heard Brier-Rose's hesitation and her confusion in Brier-Rose's voice, and she attempted to reassure her charge that it was safe to talk, giving the princess a knowing wink.

"I _do_ understand. I understand _exactly,_ Your Highness."

Brier-Rose stared at her lady in wide eyed wonder.

"You do? Oh! I'm _so_ relieved! You can answer me this question then... Do all those feelings mean I'm in True Love with him?"

Caught off guard, the Chief Lady-in-Waiting decided to go with discretion as being the better part of valour.

"Um... _Possibly_."

Brier-Rose sat bolt upright, her expression hopeful.

"Then, how would I know if he...Um...If _anyone_ , was in True Love with _me_? Are there special signs?"

"Hmmm. Well...For one, he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off you whenever he saw you."

Brier-Rose was unsure about the reliability of that particular sign.

"But, that would mean every single male out there is in True Love with me, which is _utterly_ impossible, you can only have one True Love, but they _all_ stare at me. That's only because I'm so utterly beautiful though. There _must_ be other signs?"

"Let me see...Ah, _yes._ A man who is in true love with you would be following you wherever you go."

" _Really_?...Lady Garritass. About tomorrow. I do believe I _should_ actually inspect those rose boarders you mentioned. Which dress do you think I should wear?"

-o-

Princess Brier-Rose and her ladies spent a very happy evening going through the princess' wardrobes, searching through all her dresses until they narrowed them down to a favoured four, from which she then chose the one that she would wear to visit the rose boarders. Later that night when she retired to bed, she wished seven times for the next day to be sunny and warm.

-o-

Deannick looked apologetic as he stood up.

"I'm sorry, Lord. But really, I _am_ more of a flowers kind of man. I don't think I could be of any help to anyone in this. But, Sampson here? He's a good man, a _true_ warrior. It's _him_ you need. Not someone like me. Therefore I should bid you both good night."

He bowed his head to the Keeper and headed towards the door.

" _Fine_. That's fine. I accept your decision, and your reasons boy. But you're most welcome to remain while I speak to Sampson. I'll get us all a drink shall I? Then, I will relay the rest of the story. The part I left out at the tavern, the part that reveals _exactly_ what eventually happens to the princess unless there is a hero. What can I get you? Ale? Or something a little more refined?"

Deannick glanced at Sampson, who nodded to the empty chair, clearly wanting Deannick to stay. Deannick always found it hard to refuse his friend anything.

"Thank you Lord Keeper. I _would_ like to hear what happens, and to know what Sampson's challenge will be. Might I have an ale please?"

-o-

Once drinks were provided, the Keeper produced the large green leather bound book. This time, the two friends were able to clearly see the gold work on the cover, and Deannick gave Sampson a look of concern, recognising that what they had thought to be straight forward decorative work was, in reality, a number of different magical symbols and sigils that were carefully embossed into the book's front and back. The Keeper opened the book towards the end pages and looked across at Sampson, his expression a mixture of sorrow and seriousness.

"These final few pages describe what the future holds for Princess Brier-Rose once she is entrapped in the Timeless Sleep. Please hold in mind that in this tale, there is no hero and, therefore, no one who is able to alter the outcomes of the tragic events. _That_ will be your role, Sampson. If you are successful, all will be well, however. Should you fail in your task, then this final part describes the future that awaits our princess. I would ask that you take it upon yourself to read the whole tale; but for now I shall summarise what this final part describes...The Timeless Sleep is one in which Brier-Rose will be completely unaware of any events outside her sleep. She will never dream. And she will not age. At first she will be cared for and watched over within the palace by her parents and the palace staff. After her parents die there will be no one to take the throne or protect the borders of the Kingdom. The land will gradually be split as parts are taken over by others. The numbers of people living within the palace will dwindle. Many will die as nature intended, others will be quick to leave, seeking better lives. There will come a day when Brier-Rose is entirely alone within an otherwise empty palace. The grounds will swiftly become wild and overgrown. The more nature asserts itself once more, the more unstable the buildings will become, until the entire palace gradually crumbles and falls to nothing more than loose stones and ruins around the princess. Within only a relatively few short years there will be no one who can recall there ever being a palace at all. In the end, all there will be is the princess, hidden from human view by tree roots that will grow twisted and tangled around and over her and the bed she is lying on. Her name, her very existence will be completely forgotten. Princess Brier-Rose will be so deeply hidden as to never be found, and she will always be alone, sleeping dreamlessly on throughout all eternity."

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	3. Chapter 3

For anyone who's reading and going "Huh?", hopefully things  
will become clear during thius chapter. (Note the _"hopefully")  
_ ** _Chapter 3  
_** -oOo-

Sampson and Deannick sat and stared at the Keeper in stunned silence. The Keeper smiled sympathetically at Sampson.

"You understand now how great the responsibility that comes with this challenge, and how terrible the consequences should you fail?"

Two voices answered as one.

"Yes, Lord Keeper."

-o-

Sampson turned to Deannick in surprise, the gardener gazed back innocently.

"What? You think I'd trust such a vital task as this to you alone? You're going to need someone to watch your back while you're leaping around doing all the big hero parts."

Sampson grinned .

"Actually, I rather like that! We should get the palace artist to produce a banner to hang outside the palace doors. _Sampson, Great warrior and Handsome Hero With The Big Hero Parts_...And _wossisname_. The back up."

Sampson looked to the Keeper, who was smiling at the interaction between the two men.

"Just one minor point, Lord Keeper...What exactly _is_ the task you wish us to complete? Is it to entrap and kill the witch? Or to act as escorts to the princess all day and ensure she doesn't wander? Or to hunt for the spinning wheel and destroy it?

"Oh! Didn't I say? My apologies. You must stop Brier-Rose from going anywhere _near_ a spinning wheel during the full twenty four hours of the day on which she turns seventeen. You are to do _whatever_ you can to ensure she never has an opportunity to trigger the spell that upholds the prophesy and sends her into endless sleep. Within that, I expect that you will make certain the opportunity for the princess to be alone within the hag's vicinity doesn't arise."

Sampson shrugged.

"Doesn't sound too tricky."

"It probably wouldn't be, except that Brier-Rose herself will be compelled to seek out the means by which the prophesy is fulfilled. And the hag will _certainly_ do everything she can to stop you interfering with her prophesy, made when little Brier-Rose was only one week old."

Deannick frowned.

"Um...You said _hag_...By that, you actually mean _witch_ , _don't_ you?"

"Obviously...Why do you ask?"

The gardener scowled and his voice dropped to almost a growl.

"I _hate_ witches!"

-o-

Sampson stared at his friend. Nobody sensible liked evil witches, but his friend's intense reaction suggested there was something particular driving Deannick's hate, and Sampson was immediately curious to know what it was.

"Aside from the glaringly obvious, why do you hate them _quite_ so vehemently?"

His scowl gone and his voice back to normal, Deannick himself looked puzzled by the strength of his feelings.

"Odd, but to be truthful? I have absolutely _no_ idea!...Lord, is there...?... _What_? Why are you looking at me with such amusement?"

The Keeper reigned in his grin.

"No offence, young man. It's just that I know another who's dislike of hags is as strong as yours and, for a moment, I was reminded of him. Forgive me. You had a question?"

"Um, yes...Is there any reason why we can't simply find the relevant spinning wheel, break it apart and burn it _ahead_ of the princess's birthday?"

Seeing the Keeper hitch a single eyebrow, Deannick hurriedly answered his own query.

"And of _course_ that's been tried. Probably the first thing anyone did! And I assume that consideration was also given to taking the princess away from the palace until her birthday is over?"

"Actually, no, but don't run to snatch her away just yet. If I may?...After the events at the naming ceremony, the King and Queen did indeed order every spinning wheel in the palace be gathered up and disposed of, and decreed it would be deemed treason, punishable by death, for any person entering the palace or it's grounds to have with them a spinning wheel. That decree still stands. However, over time, the Hag's prophesy has been forgotten by most, or is dismissed as irrelevant foolishness. My friends, I have read much about the events at the naming ceremony and I have found no records of the Hag ever stating that the said events would take place specifically within the palace. It's long been my _own_ suspicion that _wherever_ the princess might be on her birthday, that is _also_ where the spinning wheel will be found."

-o-

Sampson couldn't help but feel impressed at the level of power it must have taken to ensure the spinning wheel would be in the right place at the right time, wherever that place was. It also raised another issue for his enquiring mind to mull over.

"So, if we take the princess away from the palace and keep her confined to some random inn beyond the borders, you're saying we would find that we had transported her to the very place where the spinning wheel was waiting to play it's part? And yet, if we confine her _within_ the palace, then it's _there_ that she will follow the path to her fated destiny?...So, would it be right to say then, that until the princess' birthday, the cursed spinning wheel doesn't _actually_ exist _anywhere_ yet?"

-o-

The Keeper looked at Sampson in surprise.

" _Damn_!...I mean... _Goodness_! You make an excellent point my friend...If your theory is right, any search done prior to the predicted day would _clearly_ be a waste of time!"

Deannick grinned.

"Then, if the princess stays around the palace for the whole day, the spinning wheel should be here and we'll have the chance to find it before she does. What of the hag, Lord Keeper? Would it serve us to pay her a visit prior to Brier-Rose's birthday?"

The Keeper sighed.

"Unfortunately, the hag hasn't been seen since the day she laid her curse on the infant princess. I'm _certain_ though that if she still lives, then she will be present on Brier-Rose's birthday. Such people tend to be the type who would want to both ensure _and_ witness their revenge come to fruition."

Deannick looked to Sampson determinedly.

"Then, my friend, _we_ must both ensure we're fully prepared to formally greet her return to the Royal Palace after so many years absent."

-o-

The keeper suddenly sat up straighter, looking startled.

"Either of you two hear that?"

"Hear what?"

One moment the threesome were discussing approaches to the quest, then the next the Keeper was physically pushing and hurrying the two younger men out of the door with a proposal to meet again mid-morning the following day. Slamming the door closed after the pair, the Keeper's sigh of relief hung around in the air for a couple of seconds after he himself had already disappeared.

-o-

The Keeper's eyes opened slowly and focused on his surroundings, taking in the details of the room and it's contents, using them to carefully ground himself back in reality. Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Bobby sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger at the same time as switching off his alarm clock and muttering to himself.

"Damn dream root, gives me a damned headache every time I use the crappy stuff."

Standing up carefully, he wandered out of his room and to the open doorway of the room next to his. He stood in silence just inside the doorway, casting his eyes over the occupants of the twin beds. Apart from being attached to drip bags that were keeping them hydrated, both Sam and Dean looked for all the world like they were both sleeping peacefully, soon to awake. Moving across to Sam's bed, with silent apologies, Bobby peered down to the floor at the end of Sam's bed. Satisfied that the catheter bag that was there didn't yet need emptying, he then checked on Deans. He fully intended to have both catheters out and discreetly disposed of before either brother awoke, assuming he could figure out _how_ to wake the pair if successfully changing the prophesy didn't automatically do it. He _really_ hoped kissing wasn't involved. He was scowling when he left their room, heading to the motel room's kitchenette to make coffee and have cereal before he went back to his research. The joys of reading up on sleep spells, dream spells and sleep curses waiting for him.

"Goddamn witches. Could cause a man to think the Inquisition might'a had it right!"

-o-

 **FLASH-BACK**

It had only been the day prior that Bobby had answered a ridiculously early morning call from Sam, the time along with the younger man's slurred speech immediately alerting him to trouble. Between Sam's slurring and his constantly pausing to yawn, the problem had taken some time to decipher, but what he picked up was that the brothers had tried to take down a witch, and had been hit by a spell right before the witch jumped out of a third floor window, vanishing before she hit the ground. It was on the way back to their motel that the effect of the spell had begun to make itself known. By the time Sam rang, Dean had already collapsed onto his bed in a deep sleep that Sam couldn't shake him out of. When Bobby finally arrived at the motel they were using, he had found Sam's laptop open on the small dining table and Sam himself asleep on the floor, not having made it as far as his bed. It had been hard work transferring each of the brothers into the family sized accommodation that Bobby had booked into, they sure weren't toddler sized anymore. He'd closed the booking on their own room by phone, leaving the money for the extra day the pair had run up on the kitchen counter, and he had moved the Impala, tucking it in tight alongside his truck, trying to make it less obvious. It had been close on midnight before Bobby had things pretty much set up to his liking and so took time out to eat before setting up his next task.

-o-

Sitting on the edge of his bed in striped flannel PJ bottoms and a plain short sleeved tee, Bobby had set his alarm to go off an hour later and he now scowled at the tumbler of liquid in his hand in distaste.

"Right you two. Time to find out what's goin' on inside those tiny brains of yours."

He had swallowed down the carefully measured portion of Dream Root in one go. Set the empty tumbler on the small beside table and made himself comfortable on top of his bed. Closing his eyes, he had let the Dream Root take over and carry him on his first excursion, his intention on that occasion being to find Sam and Dean, then to remain in the background, unobtrusively observing until he ascertained the contents of their dreams and what they might signify.

-o-

Precisely one hour later, Bobby had opened his eyes at the same moment as his alarm clock had sounded. Sitting up slowly, he had stared at the wall separating his room from the two younger hunters as if he could see them through it.

"Well. Don't _that_ beat all. She was a sneaky one that witch you were huntin', _mighty_ sneaky. Right, Singer. First off, havt'a figure a way of makin' contact without scarin' the bejeezus outta our boys. Then I just gotta set 'em to stoppin' young Brier-Rose from prickin' her pinky on somethin', before that nice, peaceful snooze they're havin' right now turns into a never endin' _dead_ sleep."

Bobby had turned to look longingly at his pillow, before getting up and heading off to make a pot of stronger coffee. Sitting himself down at Sam's lap top, he checked his watch. It was 02.10 am. Bobby didn't expect to see his bed again until after he had taken a second Dream Root trip, this time with the intention of making direct contact with the in-dream Sampson and Deannick who, between them, represented the reality that currently slept on in the twin bedroom. Before then, however, Bobby began his caffeine fuelled research. First stop; will the real Sleeping Beauty please stand up?

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4  
_ -oOo-  
 ** _Still in "flash back" mode initially_**

Bobby skimmed through his bullet pointed notes:

Seven good fairies, one "bad" (witch) - invited - believed dead. invited - not enough golden plates. - not given a gold plate to eat from.

 **Sleeping Beauty** **AKA** Talia, Rosamund, Aurore, Brier-Rose, Rosebud.

Original prophesy - Prick finger and **die**. _Changed_ \- sleep instead of die - final gift _NOTE_ \-  Prophesy, NOT spell cast. Alternative version : Wish made by mother - goes wrong.

Pricks finger on Spinning wheel. Alternative - Pricked by flax splinter.

Raped while in enchanted sleep - By a passing King. Alternative \- Raped by a passing prince.

Pregnant. Carried to full term. Born while BR still sleeping. Twins - Sun and Moon (Or, Dawn and Day)

He shoved his notepad away from himself, muttering in exasperation.

"Too many damn versions of this thing...C'mon Singer. Think. Pin it down... _Duh_! Of _course_! It's right there, in her _name_ you docile halfwit! _Jeeze_ , do I need to have me some real sleep. _Brier-Rose_. Right. _That's_ the version we're at then, which means it _is_ the old spinnin' wheel game that's gonna play out for my boys is it? _Finally_ you're gettin' somewhere Singer! Right, time to look in on my own sleepin' beauties, then to Hell with it, I'm hittin' my pit for a couple before I pay any second visit to La la land again."

-o-

Bobby had made certain he was more prepared before embarking on his second Dream Root trip. Aiming to speak to Sam and Dean, he decided that it was important for him to blend in to achieve his goal, and he had an idea as to how he could help that happen. Before setting out, he had "up-cycled" one of the motel's scratchy old woollen blankets off his bed into a hastily created, makeshift sleeveless robe by the technical application of scissors; cutting a hole in the blanket and pulling it on over his head before fastening it around his waist with the belt from his denims. He had considered his ever present baseball cap, almost as much a part of him as his beard and, for exactly that reason, he and his cap parted company temporarily. Bobby felt particularly pleased about the role he had designated himself as the Keeper of the Books, a function he felt he already performed as a Hunter. Once he was satisfied with his preparations, he had set his alarm clock, taken a stronger Dream Root potion, and embarked on his second journey in which he managed to recruit Sam and Dean to undertake the quest and, hopefully, then successfully save their own lives.

-o-

 **NOW**

Brier-Rose was awake unusually early on the day she intended to test out the gardener's feelings for her. She stared at the dress she had settled on where it had been laid out on her day bed. Having second thoughts, she wondered if it's colour of pale lavender might make her appear childish? Finally, sneering at it, she threw the offensive dress into a corner and wandered into her wardrobe room. It was rare for her to choose entirely for herself what clothes she wore, and she found herself enjoying inspecting the contents of her wardrobes with only her own opinion for company. By the time her chief lady-in-waiting arrived to wake the princess, Brier-Rose was bathed, dressed, her hair left loose and brushed until it gleamed, and sat cursing an appallingly badly stitched piece of Torture by Embroidery that her mother, the Queen, was expecting her to complete...And it wasn't even to punish Brier-Rose for something! Lady Garritass came close to dropping the breakfast tray when she saw what the princess was, apparently, intending to wear for the morning. She had abandoned all her beautiful day dresses with their layers of silk, lace and generic princess style froth in preference for a pair of black, one year old, riding breeches that were now close to being immorally tight on her, and then teamed these with a deep red corseted top, embellished with black lace that sparkled with dainty red crystals, and which she had purloined from one of her two piece gowns. On her feet she wore a pair of silken slippers in the same red as her corset. She had topped her outfit off with a Royal Guardsman's jacket made of black velvet decorated with gold braiding, and which the lady-in-waiting instantly recognised as having been donated some years previously to the princess' dressing-up box. Designed to be waist length on a guardsman, it hung at hip length on the princess due to being oversized for her. Seeing the bug eyed expression on her lady's face sent the princess into fits of laughter.

"Y-Y-Your Highness?...You...We...But...Your Highness?"

"Oooo, goody! Breakfast."

-o-

Bobby scraped the remains off his half eaten cereal into the kitchenette waste bin. Setting his bowl and spoon on the sink side, he searched out a couple of pain killers from his medical kit before pouring himself another coffee. Dry swallowing the tablets his gaze went to the open door of the brothers' room. From where he was standing he could see the end of both beds, the mound that was Dean's feet in the bed nearest the door, and Sam's jutting off the end of the second bed. Everything about it was wrong. They were all three in the same motel accommodation, there should be noise, the sound of bickering, laughing, complaining, joking, a shower running, cutlery scraping against plates, shared discussions about the day ahead. Bobby shook himself and moved back to the laptop, trying to dislodge the slightly creepy feeling that the silence was beginning to give him.

-o-

Brier-Rose was enjoying herself enormously. Striding through the palace, her youngest Lady-in-Waiting fluttering and darting around her like a confused and panicked butterfly.

"Are you sure about this Mistress? I mean, I could deliver your greetings on your behalf Your Highness, while you leave by one of the back doors and go for your walk? I really wouldn't mind at all! Mistress? Please?"

The princess didn't slow her pace.

" _Marylou_! I am perfectly able to wish my parents a good morning myself, and _that_ is what I intend to do. Please _stop_ getting under my feet. I know my own way to the Royal breakfasting room, you can go wait for me along with the others if you prefer."

"If you please Your Highness, I have to remain with you, but, I will be most happy to remain _outside_ the breakfast room?"

-o-

"Wh... _What,_ by the _sweet crown jewels,_ do you think you're _wearing,_ girl?"

"Swallow dear, swallow it down. Really. Spitting showers of scrambled eggs, it's not the most Kingly of behaviours!"

"Oh. Pardon me for not being as perfect as yourself...My pet. Could someone please clarify for my humble self, the unimportant father who's only task is to _pay_ for everything!...Has tomorrow's birthday ball somehow trans-gendered into a fancy dress party while my back was turned? Because that's the _only_ way _that_ girl would have the most _miniscule_ chance of wearing _that_ outfit! _Look_ at her!... _That_ , my most wondrous beloved, that... _Horror_ , standing there, brazen as you like, dressed up like a cheap market whore. _Is our_ _daughter_!"

Queen Abaddon rolled her eyes. Turning, she smiled indulgently at the motionless princess.

"She's just playing with her dressing up box, _aren't_ you darling? And _doesn't_ she look just as cute as a bunny? _Lovely_ dear! Now, run along and dress yourself properly for mummy, my sweet little popkin."

Secretly triumphant at the impact of her outfit, the princess sighed the sigh that is patented to teenage girls the world over.

"Mummy! You know perfectly well, I _am_ dressed. I simply came to say good morning."

The King folded his arms, sat back and, with a satisfied smirk, gave the floor over to his wife. The Queen's eyes narrowed and her smile visibly grew tighter.

" _So_ amusing. Now, you've had your little joke so please, return to your quarters and dress yourself properly. There's my sweet girl."

The King closed his eyes. With a relatively small amount of poorly chosen words, the Queen had given the go ahead for a full frontal teen paddy, and it was only breakfast time. Once mother and daughter were nose to nose, thoroughly engrossed in their screaming match, he slowly stood up and silently made his escape out of the breakfast room, colliding with a young Lady-in-Waiting who fell forward into his chest when he pulled open the door.

" _Oh_! I mean. _Your Majesty_! Please, I..."

"Take my advice Lady...Lady, um...Go busy yourself with something useful for twenty minutes or so, then return here for my daughter. She and the Queen should just about be ready to storm off in separate directions by then. Oh, and be a dear and persuade the princess to dress herself properly, would you."

"M... _Me_ Sire? Y...Yes Your Majesty. I'll do my best, Your Majesty."

-o-

Mowing the palace lawns fortunately didn't require too much in the way of mental energy so Deannick was able to devote his thoughts to the previous night's meeting with the Keeper, and the task which lie ahead for himself and Sampson. He wasn't certain how it was intended to ensure that a simple gardener be allocated to guard the princess and keep her safe throughout the coming day; but he decided it was better to leave _that_ problem with Sampson and the Keeper. He was much more concerned about how he and Sampson were supposed to manage to stand up to the hag's use of magic and spell casting? What if she decided to turn him into something slimy? He found himself puzzling over why the Keeper seemed to be so certain he was the right man to support Sampson in this quest when there was a whole garrison of fighters to choose from? Deannick was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the princess and her troupe of ladies taking their walk, or see them change from their usual route, and instead begin heading towards the rose borders which edged the lawn he was currently mowing.

-o-

A rapid series of taps to his shoulder from behind startled Deannick from his thoughts and he spun around so swiftly that the female behind him jumped back a step with a gasp. Recognising one of the princess's Ladies, Deannick apologised immediately.

" _Please_ , forgive me my Lady! I was lost in thought and didn't hear your approach. I am so _very_ sorry!"

The Lady-in-waiting had her hand held over her heart but she smiled prettily up at him, a flush forming on her cheeks.

"No, no. My fault entirely. Princess Brier-Rose requests that you make yourself available at this time to attend her whilst she inspects the rose boarders."

Deannick glanced down at his sweat and grass stained shirt and at his breeches with both knees muddied.

"I, er..."

"The princess realises she is taking you from your work, she is not concerned about your attire. If you would please follow me?"

Deannick walked behind the female, keeping his head down while rubbing the palms of his hands up and down on his breeches, trying to dislodge the soil and dirt from his hands and finger nails.

"Your Highness, the Royal Gardener, as requested."

A smooth, soft looking and gracefully slender hand appeared within his line of sight and inside, Deannick groaned, embarrassed to take the princess's small hand in his own grubby one. The princess clearly noticed the dirt too, as her hand was suddenly and swiftly retracted.

"Oh, my goodness! Look at the dirt on your hands!"

Deannick lifted his head to apologise, and did a double take when he saw how the princess was dressed, the _off_ switch for his mouth failing to function quickly enough.

" _Good_ lore! Do your parents know you've come out dressed like that?...Um...Your Highness!"

-o-

It was a strained stroll around the boarders where the rose shrubs themselves had yet to come into bloom, Princess Brier-Rose was still feeling angry and offended by the gardener's slight against her specially chosen outfit. If truth be told, she was also more than a touch embarrassed now at being out in full view of the commonality while dressed like the cheapest whore throughout the Kingdom. She had wanted the gardener to see her as a woman, to fall in True Love the moment he saw her womanly figure. She had wanted him to Lust after her helplessly, (even though she had no idea what the word _lust_ meant, it began with "Lu" and she had heard men use it in relation to women, so she decided it must be linked to True Love somehow). And the roses with their closed up buds were boooor-rrrrrinnnng as well! _And_ the ignorant gardener man hadn't bothered to tell her how beautiful she was! She decided to make her escape, and to see whether True Love made the handsome gardener follow her like it ought to.

-o-

The fruitless wailing caused each of the Ladies-in-Waiting to, one by one, gradually recall some urgent errand they had to complete on behalf of some important personage or other, until all that was left were Lady Garritass and her deputy Lady Clifford, a plump woman heading into middle age. The pair sat one either side of a howling lump under the bedcovers that was Brier-Rose. Every so often the two women would gaze at one another over the mound and either roll their eyes or shake their heads slowly. Lady Clifford decided to have another go at getting through to the princess.

"There, there Little Mistress. Hush, hush. It's getting time you need go have the last fitting for that there pretty birthday dress of yours. You just think on, my lamby, today's the very first time ever you spoke to 'im. This True Love sometimes takes time lemon tea. P'raps it's _one_ o' those...erm...times?"

Even to Lady Clifford's own ears, she was using the word _time_ fairly often. She guessed it was a reflection of how she felt like she was wasting her time, having to comfort Brier-Rose because something hadn't happened that Lady Clifford didn't believe in anyway. She threw Lady Garritass a look that said _Help_? Lady Garritass smiled and stood up.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave Lady Clifford. I have an important errand to run for Her Majesty. I know you will take _excellent_ care of our poor, heartbroken, little princess."

Lady Clifford watched in dismay and annoyance as her senior hurriedly made her exit out of the princess's quarters.

"That flat chested, scrawny, stuck up _bitch_!"

The mound in the bed fell abruptly silent at Lady Clifford's outburst and Brier-Rose's head began to emerge from under the sheets. Crying over the lack of True Love could wait, one should never pass up the unexpected opportunity to make certain an individual knows they are now doomed to suffer the repeated use of blackmail. Valuable advice the princess's father had handed on to her and which she now intended to make full use of.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	5. Chapter 5

_Welcome back!  
_ **Chapter 5  
** -oOo-

Just before mid-morning, Deannick put the mower away and headed to the Keeper's quarters. It didn't occur to him that until yesterday he had never heard of a Keeper of the books, or that he had never previously walked by the Keeper's quarters, even though it was on his route to the tavern. What he _did_ know was that he was the bearer of bad news. It had been made clear to him by Brier-Rose's frosty silence while he escorted her along the rose beds earlier that his mouth, or at least the words out of it, had unsurprisingly managed to upset her. His attempt to say he was sorry fell onto stony ground. Deannick now believed it would be better for everyone if he was replaced and someone else help Sampson keep the princess safe. The Keeper opened the door to his hesitant knock, and immediately frowned at the younger man's expression.

"Come on in lad, Sampson's here already...What's wrong?"

-o-

Sampson gawped at Deannick.

"You actually said that to her? To the princess herself?"

Deannick groaned.

"Don't, please! I feed bad enough already. Anyway, I came to say you'll need to get somebody else. There's no _way_ the princess will want _me_ following her around all day now."

Steepling his fingers, the Keeper gazed thoughtfully at Deannick until, finally, Bobby reached a decision.

"Right...You two need to listen to me carefully. There's something you both need to know."

-o-

The two men remained silent while Bobby talked. Sampson stared at the older man with an intensity that made Bobby feel that his every word was being disected and carefully considered; while Deannick's expression quickly grew more and more incredulous. Expecting an outburst from Deannick, Bobby was surprised when it was Sampson, in fact, who broke the quiet which followed his short explanation of the two men's actual identities, and their current real world predicament.

"So, if what you're telling us is true...

" _Sampson_!"

Sampson held a hand up to Deannick.

"A moment please?...Keeper, in this other world, Deannick and I, you say we're actual brothers? By blood? _Full_ brothers?"

Bobby smiled at the archer in both affection and relief. Out of everything Sampson had heard...Hunting, witch's, fairy tales, spells...He had put them all to one side to home in on the relationship between himself and Deannick in the life that Bobby described. As deeply ingrained into this life as the brothers were, Bobby knew something had been triggered within the youngest Hunter.

"Yes. Full brothers. You feel it, don't you lad?"

Deannick couldn't contain his silence any longer, deciding that the Keeper must have done something to his friend while they were alone waiting for him to arrive.

"Sampson, listen to me. The Keeper, he's enchanted you or something. You _have_ to know how ridiculous his tale is? You're Sampson, Sergeant in the King's Archers. I'm Deannick, the palace gardener, and we're friends, _best_ friends. _This,_ right here _, this_ is our lives. Not the outlandish fantasy dreamt up by a lunatic who's clearly read way too many books and been infected by them!"

Bobby rounded on Deannick.

"Are you _quite_ sure about that, son?"

Deannick rose quickly to his feet, glaring at Bobby angrily and not noticing himself reaching behind to the waistband of his breeches with one hand, as though to retrieve something that ought to be there.

"Am I sure that what you're saying is a lie? Sure that you're a mad man? Yes. I'm _very_ sure _both_ of these are true. Don't you think I'd know it if I was really somebody else? Some hunter of unnatural beasts?"

" _Hell_ no. Not with the power behind the damn spell that you're under... _Dean_. That's the whole _point_ of it! You have to believe me. This place? This life? It isn't real...Sam?"

"Sampson."

"No. I'm sorry, but as I have explained, your name's Sam _._ Short for Samuel...Ahh, _screw_ this bull crap. _Look!_ There's neither of you two knuckleheads belong here, _geddit_? This dumbass place ain't real! It _ain't_ your world, an' it sure as Hell ain't your life. Like it or not, _idjits_ , you're _Hunters_ , so am I...There's gotta be _somethin'_ ringin' a bell _somewhere_ inside them thick skulls of yours? I know you felt it Sam, when I said you an' Dean here were brothers. It felt _right_ kid, didn't it? Like somethin' had just clicked into place?"

-o-

The two men stared at the Keeper across the rough wooden table they were all seated at, thrown by the way the clearly frustrated Keeper had suddenly begun speaking, using strange words they didn't understand, but which somehow sounded oddly right coming from his lips. Sam and Dean locked eyes, the same single thought instantly sparking through both their minds... _Brother_.

-o-

Dean's recent absolute certainty faulted at the realisation that above all else, he desperately wanted the brother part at least to be true. _Was_ the Keeper a complete lunatic, or was there even the slightest possibility that the man was speaking honestly? Alternatively, if it _was_ an absurd lie? Then what could the man possibly stand to gain from it? Controlling his tone and volume, Dean checked what the man was actually telling them

"So, you want us to believe that your name is Bobby, he's Sam, I'm Dean. We're brothers, and the three of us are very close?"

"Uh huh. Right."

"And all of us go around killing things that don't really exist as far as most people are concerned?"

"We're all _Hunters_. Right again."

"And _this_ life, the one we have here, is based on nothing more than a bedtime story for children?"

"Three rights."

"And you're expecting that we'll believe you?"

Bobby gave a half smile.

"It'd be real useful."

Deannick nodded.

"I see...Well, it's been, um, _entertaining_. But I'm going to wish you good day and head back to my imaginary quarters, to eat my imaginary lunch before getting back to. my imaginary job this afternoon...Sampson? You coming or staying?"

Sampson hesitated before getting to his feet and politely bowing his head to the Keeper.

"It's been a pleasure, Lord Keeper."

Bobby remained seated, his expression one of defeat as he watched his unofficially adopted sons head towards the door. Half way there, Sam paused and looked back at the older man.

"Do you think you will find someone before tomorrow to look after the princess?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders disconsolately.

"It don't matter...It's you pair's been put under by your witchy pal, so it's only you two can get yourselves free; and that means _you_ two making sure the prophecy about the girl don't come true. There's nobody else can save her."

-o-

Already at the door, his hand grasping the door-knob, Deannick now looked towards the heavens in despair. _Why did Sampson have to go and ask that?_ Slowly he turned back around, wandered back to his chair, and slumped down onto it, gazing at the man _he_ still believed was the Keeper. Smiling to himself, Sam took his seat next to his best friend, and brother, while Dean clarified his position for Bobby.

"Let me make it clear. There is only one reason I am sitting here. Brier-Rose. I have no wish to see her come to any harm...So now, tell me again. What do _you_ believe will happen to this supposed other us if we fail in this task?"

"You mean the _real_ you...You'll both join Brier Rose in endless, _dreamless_ , sleep. If that happens? You got my word. The rest of my life, whether it's long or short, I'll be lookin' for a way to get you both back. An' I _swear_ , if there _is_ another way out there somewhere; I'll find it...Don't you worry none about not bein' too popular with young Brier-Rose either. I'll be making dead certain it's both of _you_ guardin' her, whether she likes it or not..."

As he had previously, Bobby suddenly looked as though he was listening to something that neither Sam or Dean could hear. This time though, he made no move to hurry the younger men out of the door.

"Time for me to go. I've got some cooking waitin' for me. I'll see you here tonight, say around eight? Sam, can you fix your brother up with a blade? Come an' find me tonight, but for now, if it's proof you're hankerin' after, stick around."

Curious, Sam and Dean stayed seated, and then they weren't. The Keeper had abruptly disappeared in front of their eyes and, at the same moment, so had every fixture, fitting, book and shelf within his quarters, including the chairs they had been sitting on. The pair hit the floor on their backsides with a thump, and both stared around at the empty, dusty and dilapidated shell of a building which had so recently acted as the Keeper's cluttered abode.

" _By the Queen's bedchamber_! What kind of magic is _this_?"

Dean stared bug eyed at Sam, taken aback by the appalling vulgarity of Sampson's... _Sam's?..._ cursing which, even by a soldier's standards, was extreme. Unlike Sam, Dean curbed his own response.

"I have to admit my friend... _Brother? Is it truly possible?_...that _was_ unexpected. _Maybe_ there is some small aspect of truth to the man's tale? How do _you_ feel now about all this Sampson?"

"Well. First, maybe you should start to call me _Sam_? And how I _feel,_ is pretty certain I'm rapidly developing a major bruise on my left buttock!

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter six.  
_ -oOo-

Standing in the motel room's kitchenette, Bobby cast his eyes over the ingredients he had lain out on the counter. He wasn't convinced that he had done the right thing in telling Deannick and Sampson their real world identities, but he'd had to do something to stop Dean walking away from the task ahead of them and to try to ensure both men understood what was at stake. In the end, he told himself, Brier-Rose was nothing but a REM created character to him and, much like a cartoon, her existence was imaginary, unlike his two boys.

" _Balls_! Not gonna be enough gofer dust. Nearest supplier could be in the next damn state! That's just dandy. _Crap_!...Ok Singer, no point gettin' teary eyed. _Sure_ , it's a long shot, but _maybe_ there's somewhere reachable. If it's a no goer, there's always Plan B."

Irritated, Bobby strode across to the laptop and began to search for the nearest specialist Wicca or pagan supplier to his location; fully expecting to have to resort to checking out if there were any other Hunters carrying what he needed, and close enough to get it to him. Instead, he was delighted to discover a retailer advertising themselves as exactly the kind he needed and sited only five miles away within the nearby little township. Bobby set about making sure Sam and Dean were comfortable, and that they were as safe as he could make them by the lying down of salt lines and a sigil quickly pencilled onto the inner side of the door, protecting it from damage or in any other action designed to gain admittance by anyone other than himself. Once he was satisfied, he picked up the keys for the Impala, muttering a quiet promise to Dean that he'd take good care of her, and headed in the direction of the township.

-o-

The town turned out to be _so_ small that Bobby accidentally drove into it and, unwittingly, straight out the other side again. He was another four miles on, with no township in sight, before he realised his error. Spinning the Impala around he back-tracked, driving much more slowly this time along the short main street that ran through the centre of the few shops making up the town centre. The Ashen Lady Emporium of Talismans and Trinkets turned out to be sited above the one hair salon within the centre. It's entrance was situated at the top of an external metal stairway. Bobby hoped to Hell it was more than a shop full of junk aimed at any tourists who bothered to stop and have a stroll through the centre. The door itself was half glazed, however the glass had been covered over on the inside with black card, blocking any view of the shop's contents and displaying no evidence as to whether the shop was open or closed. Bobby experimentally tested the door, and was startled by the loud noise of the harsh sounding buzzer that sounded when he pushed the door open.

-o-

Sam passed yet another single handed sword over to Dean.

"I think you might prefer how this one feels then, it's balance point is set much nearer the hilt, so the whole thing might feel more responsive, less cumbersome, than the others you've tried. See if you can tell any difference at the training post."

Dean sighed.

"Fine, I'll try it. Are you _sure_ I can't carry my pitchfork? I'm comfortable with that and it'd make an excellent weapon with those long prongs."

"Sorry Deannick. You can't be at the princess's side wherever she goes looking like a farm-hand who's forgotten his way to the barn. You have to look like a dashing Hero, then she'll want you around so she can show you off."

"Now you're making me sound like a prize winning bull!"

"Well, Brier-Rose is a gloriously pretty prize, and she'll love towing you along by the ring through your nose."

With a glare at his grinning friend, Dean wandered over to the sword training post and began half heartedly hitting it with the sword, calling back to Sam.

"Why can't I help you search for the spinning wheel?"

"Because one of us has to protect the princess."

Dean stopped sullenly whacking the wooden post and wandered back to Sam with a sly expression on his face.

"Tell me...Which one of us is the fighter around here, Sammy?"

" _Sam_ , please. Ah...Yes...But it's _you_ she has her eye on."

"And it's _me_ she's annoyed at right now. Sorry _Sammy._ You _know_ you're the one who needs to stick to our pouting princess, so I'll be searching for the spinning wheel...You're right about the sword though. I'll go with this one, it _does_ feel better in my hand than the others."

"Good. So then, lets go find you a scabbard and get you fitted out with a uniform."

"Huh?"

"Look at it this way, are you more likely to be allowed to wander around the palace freely as a gardener, or as an officer in the King's garrison?"

-o-

Inside the shop, Bobby gazed around at it's sparse stock. There were hardly any goods on display, and what was available was clearly trash. It was almost as though the owner was discouraging custom. Bobby's hopes sank further when he spotted the display of small, ugly, plastic "Good Luck" pixies marked at the truly ridiculously high price of thirty eight dollars. There were no gaps in the display to suggest anyone had been fool enough to pay out for one of the awful things.

"What is it you're wanting?"

Bobby turned to look at the woman who had quietly come out from another room to position herself behind the store counter. She was grey eyed, tall, with one of those faces which made it hard to guess her age, the type usually described as "handsome". Her dark grey hair hung loose past her shoulders, her shape was hidden within a long, deep purple kaftan, azure blue lightening fork shaped ear rings hung from both her ears; and numerous different coloured woven cotton bracelets decorated one wrist. Bobby smiled politely having decided to make an exit, the whole scene telling him to not bother even mentioning gofer dust.

"I was just browsin' ma'am, thank you."

The store owner let him get halfway to the exit before saying anything.

"I've got what you're looking for."

-o-

Bobby pointedly gazed at the limited stock.

"I seriously doubt it, but thanks again."

He made it almost to the door.

"I find that, most often, I _do_ have in stock the item that _traders_ are wanting."

Bobby about turned.

"How about gofer dust?"

The store owner's expression didn't flicker.

"How much would you like?"

-o-

The owner watched from a window in the genuine sales area as Bobby walked from the bottom of the staircase over to a sleek looking black car. Frowning, her gaze went to the car's registration plate. Moving away from the window, she ran her eyes over the well stocked shelves and hanging racks, estimating how long it would take her to get everything boxed and ready to leave. She had no intention of also packing the junk that was in the front sales area, she could simply buy more when she arrived at her next destination. Previous experience told her that she could probably be leaving the quiet town behind and moving on again by around eight pm. Then if she drove fast, until roughly eleven pm, that would put a nice distance between herself and this location that was seemingly plagued by Hunters, this latest one clearly knowing the younger pair she'd had a run in with, he was driving the first pair's car. Stopping at around eleven would leave her an hour thereabouts until midnight. When it would then become the day of Princess Brier-Rose's seventeenth birthday, the day the witch intended to ensure her unhappy prophesy about the princess came true.

-o-

Pleased with not having had to travel far to get what he needed, Bobby pulled up outside a general grocery store and took the opportunity to stock up on the more mundane supplies before he headed back to the motel and began the careful task of making up the hex bags he hoped to be able to then transfer across into Sam and Dean's dream. It was nothing more than a theory, a long shot, something he had never tried to do before. However, he believed it was a theory worth testing. He also needed to carry out another short trip into the dream world, this time to speak to the King about attaching an escort to protect Brier-Rose, and to ensure she kept within the palace and it's grounds throughout the coming twenty fours hours. A proper night's sleep for him seemed to move even further out of reach.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
-oOo-

Dean's accommodation was smaller than the shed where all his gardening equipment was stored. Normally it was fine for him, he spent large parts of his days outside and many evenings out "socialising" elsewhere anyway. However, right now he was also playing host to Sam and Sam's campaign bed, which had only just fit into the small sitting area and now blocked all access to the room's comfortable seating. Sam himself didn't mind, he was already sleeping with carefree abandon. One forearm was resting on the floor, his other arm was stretched up alongside his head and hanging of the end of the low campaign bed, one bare leg was stuck out from under the bedclothes and hooked over the bed's side edge, his hair looked like a wrecked crow's nest lying tangled on his pillow and with one lock lying over both his eyes. His head was turned to one side, his mouth slack and hanging open, leading to regular soft snuffles and snores.

-o-

Creeping down the narrow gap between campaign bed and wall, Dean paused on his way back to his own tiny bedroom with an earthen wear beaker of water and looked at his friend, envious of Sam's ability to sleep, and more than a little puzzled over why both of them sleeping in beds in such close confines felt so oddly natural? They had both decided that it was a good idea to get some sleep now, before they met up with Bobby, as then it would potentially be over twenty-fours hours before they next saw their beds again. Dean, however, was struggling to fall asleep, the turmoil of his own thoughts keeping him awake and forefront of those thoughts was the alleged relationship between himself and Sam. _Sam?_ Dean was taken aback by how easily he had fell into calling his friend "Sam", even in his thoughts, the name Sampson simply no longer feeling or sounding right.

-o-

Lying on his back on top of his bed, he began mentally playing with his own name, comparing how it felt to what Bobby said his name was. _Deannick...Dean...Deeeeean...Deeeeeannick...Deeeeeeee. Good morning, my name is Deannick...Deannick...Um...Deannick, Deannick? Deannick_ _ **who?**_ _..._ _ **Ratspawn! I can't remember my own last name!**_ Dean quickly got up and hurried to the peacefully sleeping Sam, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and shaking him awake.

-o-

Dean had only just registered that Sam was moving when, with his eyes still closed, Sam's large hand was grasping Deannick's wrist tight enough for his hand to colour pink, then red.

"Let go. It's _me_ Sam. Deannick!"

Sam's eyes cracked open enough to let him see the man standing over him, he relaxed the grip he had on Dean's hand.

"Dee? Wha? Wha's wrong?"

"Quickly Sam, what's your last name?"

"Say again?"

"Tell me your last name!"

"You're being really weird. You already know my last name, it's...?"

Dean looked smug.

"You don't know it, _do you_? Go on, admit it."

The campaign bed creaked loudly as Sam shuffled and moved to sit upright on the edge of his bed.

"This' crazy! How can I not know my own name?...I assume it's the same for you?"

A nod answered Sam. Then Dean solemnly held out a hand to the younger man.

"Hello Sam. It would appear that my name is Dean. I am also given to understand that you and I are brothers."

Grinning broadly as he took Dean's hand, Sam shook it firmly.

"Pleasure to meet you Dean. The name sits well with you... _My brother_."

-o-

Any thoughts of sleep were abandoned as the pair contemplated their new found relationship and tried to come to terms that, as they were, they were each a projection of their real selves' dreaming, and yet the continued well being of their real selves depended entirely on Sampson and Deannick, as their dream counterparts, successfully completing their dream quest. Sam could see, as time past, the signs of nervous tension building up within his newly discovered brother. Whatever they supposedly were in another life, in _this_ one, Dean was a gardener, not a warrior; and Sam found himself suddenly afraid.

"Enough talk. Come on brother, outside."

"Why? Where are we going?"

"We're not _going_ anywhere, You know the basics, now I'm going to teach you as much as I can about how to _really_ use a sword in what little time we have. On your feet, _Dean_."

"You can't boss me around! Am I going to have to keep reminding you? _I'm_ the eldest."

"Fine...A deal. If you manage to disarm me, then _you_ can do the ordering about. Until then, outside with you. I need you to get through this quest alive."

-o-

The King sighed impatiently, staring at the long curtain which hid his daughter from view and from behind which there was currently no sound.

"As it is me who's paying for the wretched thing, at least do me the courtesy of coming out from behind there and telling me everything you've decided you hate about your new gown Brier-Rose. Then I can go through the inevitable _That's tough,_ _you're wearing it speech_ and get back to doing Kingy things, while you return to your all important sulking; and we'll both be happy."

The small, slight figure of the seamstress stepped silently out from behind the curtain and swept the heavy cloth back, to reveal the princess.

-o-

For a few seconds there was complete silence as father and daughter held one another's gaze, then the King gave a long, soft whistle.

" _Bloody bells!_...Who are you and where's my scrawny scrapling of a daughter wandered off to?"

Brier-Rose, for once silent, her eyes glistening with tears, smiled shyly at her father as she stood, unmoving, in front of him. She was a vision in pure white, twinkling rainbow lights from ten thousand tiny crystals set into a sophisticated and elaborate filigree design across her bodice like a sash and then continuing on weaving their way over the skirt of the gown, sparkled when the light caught them as her chest rose and fell with her breathing. The sweetheart neckline perfectly framed her décolleté and long, graceful neck, around which hung a single strand of glowing white natural salt water pearls interspersed with the twinkling effervescence of perfect, bright white, pear shaped diamonds. Her pale blonde hair had been loosely pinned up and decorated with a small, delicate tiara that matched her necklace. The long line bodice of the gown ended at her hips, clinging to her slim, shapely torso like an embrace. Long, close fitting sleeves ended in a point that sat perfectly central on the back of each hand, and the full skirt, a mix of the softest silk and the most delicate and intricate lace work, flowed and moved around the princess like white foam on the tips of gentle summer waves. Quite simply, both the gown and the young woman wearing it were astoundingly beautiful.

-o-

The King's thoughts went to the Prince of the tiny, distant land who was already nearing the palace, where he expected to be betrothed to Brier-Rose on the coming day. Maybe he should turn the boy away? Surely the wondrous prize before him deserved to be betrothed to a prince from far larger and more important lands? His daughter was clearly all too spectacular, too special, to be handed over to some little Prince Nobody. Sending the spotty, snot nosed prick back home empty handed would probably lead to war, but the King wasn't worried. The Prince's homeland was so tiny, he could virtually blow it away with a sneeze. He made up his mind.

"I have some good news for you sweetheart. Your distress over your planned betrothal so broke your daddy's heart, after you departed I thought long and hard, and I decided that I will be turning the Prince of acne around and chasing him all the way back home without you, my precious. I trust you are happy about this?"

"Yes father dear. Utterly _ecstatic_. Thank you sooo much."

"You're very welcome, offspring of my royal loins. And your gown? Is it acceptable to you?"

Brier-Rose grinned enthusiastically.

" _Most_ acceptable father. I utterly _adore_ it. Thank you _sooo_ much daddy...I love you."

Three words. That's all it took. And the parenting Hell that had begun when the princess went to bed at eleven years old, and woke up the following morning having turned twelve, faded away to nothing in the King's mind. This was Princess Brier-Rose, his beloved daughter, and she was _perfect_. The King opened his arms and she ran to him. Hugging her, he whispered into her ear.

"I love you too, my beautiful little girl."

-o-

A polite cough interrupted the rare father daughter moment. The King looked towards the unwanted interruption over Brier-Rose's shoulder.

"Well? Get on with it man. Deliver your news."

"Sire, the Royal Keeper of the Books is demanding he be allowed to speak with Your Majesty."

"Really. And where have you put the tedious man?"

"He is waiting in the ballroom Sire. He wished to check the progress of the preparations for tomorrow's birthday ball in honour of Princess Br...Princess...Um...Wow!... _Oh_! My apologies Sire...I...I..."

Half way through the steward's answer, Brier Rose had turned to look at him. The impact that the site of her in her glorious gown had on the steward made her giggle. The King glanced back and winked at Brier-Rose, himself amused at the steward's floundering.

"You've met my daughter before, haven't you steward?"

"Sire. Yes Sire, bu...bu...but..."

"You're right...She _does_ look rather stunning. But what do you expect? What with me being such a handsome devil, and her mother not being too bad looking herself?...Alright. Go tell the Keeper I will be down to meet with him shortly."

After a further long...And longing...stare at Brier-Rose, the steward bowed low and scurried away.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8  
_ -oOo-

Bobby stood in the centre of the huge ballroom waiting for the King to put in an appearance. He was surrounded by activity as staff ignored him and continued to busy themselves dressing walls and ceilings with garlands, streamers, silk flowers, live ivy and anything else they felt would change the ballroom into something magical. When the King did finally stroll in and drift over to him through the apparent chaos, Bobby's eyes shot wide open. He shouldn't have been surprised really. He should have _expected_ that the King in Sam and Dean's dream would look exactly like Crowley. Recovering, Bobby bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty. I thank you for seeing me at short notice."

The King gave a brief, tight smile while glancing around at the transformation occurring in every part of the room.

"Why _wouldn't_ I respond promptly when my favourite Keeper requests to see me? What can I do for you today? Have you run out of books to read?"

"Sire, I come because I have concerns for the safety of the princess on the day of her seventeenth birthday."

The King's attention swiftly diverted onto the Keeper and his eyes narrowed. Bobby was sure he felt the air temperature drop a few degrees.

"And why would _that_ be, _Sir_?"

"The _prophecy_ Your Majesty! Made at her naming ceremony?"

"Prophecy?...Oh... _That_! Complete and utter _rubbish_! Surely you realise that my good man?"

-o-

Bobby was taken aback, he knew from his research that this version of the story stated that over the years the prophecy was forgotten by most people at the palace; but he hadn't expected the girl's own father to simply dismiss it as being _rubbish._ After all, he had been there when the prophecy was made, he had seen and heard the fury of the witch for himself. Bobby rapidly adjusted his tactic.

"You are wise Sire and, therefore, obviously right. But my concern is that some ruffian might find it amusing to try to frighten the princess and her good mother, the Queen, by setting a trap designed to make those present believe the prophecy has come to pass. It would be a shame if such an unfortunate occurrence were to ruin the celebrations, Your Majesty. That is why I am seeking your permission for a discreet amount of protection to stay close to the princess for the duration of the day. Say, no more than two young men to remain by her and be available to attend to her wishes? Such an escort on so special a day would not, I think, be seen as unreasonable?"

The King's gaze settled thoughtfully on Bobby, while in his mind he heard again his daughters recent words... _I love you_. At last he nodded briskly.

" _Alright._ You have my permission, _but_ , know this Lord Keeper. Should, in fact, any harm come to my much loved daughter whilst she is supposedly protected? It is _you,_ and your chosen escorts, who will be held responsible and will pay the ultimate price...Do I make myself clear?"

Bobby bowed low from his waist.

"Very clear Your Majesty. For the sake of our most precious princess, I humbly accept your terms. I am grateful to Your Majesty for his most excellent decision."

"Good, it's agreed then. Now, off you go and make whatever arrangements you feel are necessary."

"I will. Thank you once again Sire."

-o-

The king watched while the Keeper walked out of the ballroom. Both he and his wife had been so caught up with the birthday arrangements, neither had given any thought to an incident which occurred seventeen years previously. Part of him was grateful that the Keeper had remembered and had the foresight to have already devised a way to try to keep Brier-Rose safe. The remaining part of him was angered that the Keeper had reminded him of that terrible day when it seemed his beloved baby daughter was doomed not to live beyond her seventeenth birthday, and for causing the worry he now felt regarding what tomorrow might bring. He wandered off to find someone to carry a message to the garrison commander that he wanted double the amount of guards on gate duty, starting immediately.

-o-

When the time came for Dean to try to put together the basic cuts and parries of swordsmanship, it became increasingly clear that he wasn't the novice he had thought he was. In their practice fights, his sword arm certainly knew what to do, even if his head claimed not to. After a series of complex parry, reposts, Sam was finally able to score a hit on Dean only by resorting to using a feint. A technique he hadn't yet demonstrated and which brought Dean to a surprised halt more than the whack from the flat of Sam's blade against his lower ribs did.

"Whatever you did just then, I hope you're going to teach me it?"

Panting a little, Sam shook his head.

"Whatever I'm doing, it most surely isn't _teaching_ you anything. It feels more like I am simply reminding you of something which you hadn't known you had forgotten! No one, doesn't matter _who_ they are, _no one_ becomes as skilled as _you_ undoubtedly are within such a short time. It takes years of training which, my brother, I would say, you have most certainly had."

Dean gazed at his sword, a fleeting sadness crossing his face.

"Not me, Sampson. The other one. The _real_ Dean. It's _his_ life this skill comes from, not the life that I believed was mine; the life I thought I had lived and would continue to live...I think it's time to take a break. Wait here, I'll bring us out a jug of ale."

Concerned by his rapid change of mood, Sam watched as Dean walked away and went back inside. He wondered whether his older brother had even noticed himself return to using the name Sampson?

-o-

The Queen was in her chamber surrounded by her maids, all studiously working on intricate little embroidery samples when the King barrelled into the room, causing a series of shocked squeals and multiple maids to shoot to their feet and dip down into a low group curtsey. He ignored them all.

"I've changed my mind, Madam...No snot nosed little fart of a princelet is getting his damp sweaty little lily white hands on _my_ girl! You can tell him so when he arrives, just before you turn him around and send him back to his nothing little pimple of a principality...Darling."

Turning to her maids, the Queen smiled sweetly at them.

"Ladies? Would you be so kind as to leave? I will send for you when I require you to attend me. Thank you all _so_ much."

The King glared at the backs of the maids as they all scuttled out of the room. As the door closed behind the last of them, the Queen's smile disappeared.

"Don't you _ever_ storm into my chamber unannounced again! Is that quite clear?"

Instantly deflated, the King gazed down at the floor.

"Yes dear."

-o-

Each time Bobby awoke from a dream root induced sleep, his headache was worse than previous and he vaguely wondered whether there was some recommended limit as to how many times it could safely be used within any twenty four hour period? For a while he did nothing but sit quietly on the edge of his bed, waiting for the point at which he would feel ready to confront the idea of trying to stand and walk. A small sound from the next room cut short his wait, and Bobby took a deep breath before forcing himself up onto his feet, squeezing his eyes closed at the brief flare of even greater pain that travelled like lightening through his skull. The sound, like a brief, sad whimper, was repeated, and Bobby's basic instincts took over like a puppeteer, leading his body into Sam and Dean's room.

-o-

At first, through squinting eyes, Bobby could see nothing to indicate which of the brothers the sound had come from, until a closer look at their faces revealed the furrows of a small frown on Dean's forehead. His own aches and pains shoved to one side, Bobby sat himself down on the edge of Dean's bed and stroked his hand across the eldest brother's forehead soothingly while talking to him in a low voice, frustrated that he couldn't know what was wrong..

"Whassup there kiddo? That brother o' yours bein' a pain in the behind, is he? Or is somethin' spoilin' those gardens of yours? Don't you go payin' too much attention to it son. Things're gonna work out just fine, my lad. You'll see. Sammy an' you? You're _both_ gonna be ok...Ok?"

Whether because of Bobby's soothing or not, the frown had faded. Bobby went to replace the saline bags and checked how many he still had available before he would need to find a way to re-stock. He'd brought supplies enough for forty eight hours, expecting to be able to counter the witch's spell in half that time. That was when he was expecting to be dealing with your standard "sleep" spell. However, it was clear _this_ situation was the work of one high ranking witch, and went _way_ beyond _his_ basic skills level and spells knowledge. If the Winchester brothers failed to get themselves out of this mess, he would have to look at meeting their nutritional needs, not just making sure their fluid levels were maintained. An' obviously, they would both need...

" _Quit it_! Thinkin' _way_ too much Singer, lotta good _that's_ gonna do my achin' bonce. Gotta give these boys a chance first, before I start frettin' like some old woman about what _might_ need takin' care of. One step at a time Singer, _that's_ what I gotta focus on...An' coffee. Coffee'll help, with pain killers, in quantity."

-o-

Robert - Bobby - Singer made it half way from the brothers' room to the kitchenette. At which point he came to an abrupt halt and, bug-eyed, for a few seconds he stood staring off into space, as though he had just taken a hard hit and was now waiting for his body to realise, and keel over.

"I'll be damned!... _I'll_ be...It might _work_!...Singer, you might just be a friggin' _genius_!...There should be an award!...Hell. There should be a _statue_!...I'm a...A...?... _Balls_!...I'm a complete bloody _idjit_ for _not_ thinkin' of it sooner. _That's_ what I am!"

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9~  
_ -oOo-

Dean looked down at the snow white, skin tight hose he wore, tucked inside his gleaming, calf high, black leather boots. He tugged irritably at the ruffles running from neck to nipple down the front of his long length white shirt, trying hopelessly to get them to lie flat. Grabbing hold of yet more ruffles hanging from the wrists of his shirt sleeves, he shoved his arms into the sky blue velvet sleeves of his frock coat style uniform jacket, then attempted to pull everything straight again before buttoning the jacket up. Next came what Dean had decided was the most pointless item of clothing _ever_ , a short cape that, once fastened in place, only draped over one shoulder. Both jacket and cape were heavily decorated with twists of thick gold braid. Over the jacket he fastened around his waist a thick black leather belt, from which hung a matching sword scabbard. Finally, he forced his hands into a pair of plain black leather gloves designed to fit like a second skin. That done, he looked up and over to Sam, who had been watching the whole torturous process with one hand clamped firmly across his mouth, shoulders shaking and a face that turned a brighter and brighter shade of red while his eyes filled with tears at the sight of his older brother's grumpy body language and his incredible variety of less than happy facial expressions throughout the whole trial. Dean gave him a single word warning.

"Don't."

-o-

The King was hiding. No...The King was _busy_ in his study while the Queen along with a retinue of her maids and four members of the garrison went to the grand entrance hall where they were to meet, greet and then turn away the prince who had been spotted on his final approach to the palace; wherein resided his supposed bride-to-be.

-o-

The prince travelled mounted on a pure white steed accompanied by a single man-at-arms who sat astride a nag best described as dirty grey in colour and was also leading a bored mule that carried the prince's luggage. The prince gazed happily around at the sheer beauty of the surrounding scenery along the pretty winding path, which ended at the golden double gates leading into the extensive grounds of the many turreted palace set in their midst. He was excited to, finally, be shortly meeting the girl he was to marry. Everyone he had asked had told him much the same thing; _She is renowned as a girl of great beauty and grace my prince, said to be full of laughter and joy for life and possessing a bright mind._ The descriptions of her were so glowing that he had already fallen in love with the _idea_ of her which, in turn, inspired him to compose a love poem as a betrothal gift. The first three lines all rhymed, and he used the journey to create an internal list of other potential words that rhymed with room, tune and _June._ An emerald green and brilliant yellow butterfly dancing in flight unexpectedly captivated the prince's attention and his focus on the gift of poetry for Princess Brier-Rose instantly dissipated.

-o-

The guard watched as his prince smiled with sincere delight at a bug that flew past. He shook his head slowly. There had been a long held belief that the prince was not the sort of man who had any interest in becoming intimately knowledgeable about the female anatomy. It had been a surprise, then, how enthusiastic he was about his impending marriage. Maybe when his mother, bless her soul, had often described him as merely a _sensitive boy_ , she had been right? Sensitivity and poetry the guard could just about tolerate, provided the dumb ponce pot ****** _also_ twitter-pated like a rabbit and quickly produced a fine warrior of a son who, after the prince was then disposed of, would be placed on the throne to eventually rule as a good and proper kingly King. The guard, himself one of the chief architects of the planned future demise of the prince, was also curious to see this Brier-Rose. A promise had been made that the garrison could have her once the prince had been slaughtered; and his mates back home wanted to know exactly what it was they could look forward to.

 ****** _Ponce pot (antique) : Like a big salt shaker, used to hold ground cuttlefish which was then used to smooth out rough textured paper and to dry writing ink onto the paper._

-o-

Bobby sat himself down at the small, circular dining table with an ordinary pen and the three dirty and scuffed sheets of ancient motel courtesy paper he found in the TV cabinet. He stared into space, his mind sifting through it's vast achieves of knowledge gained from research, from other people, from his own years of first hand experiences and the knowledge that is the type that seems to be gathered via a form of osmosis, those things you never knew you knew until it pops up out of nowhere right when it's needed. After a while, he wrote three headings on one of the blank sheets, _Defensive,_ _Offensive_ and _Resistive._ Under each heading he began listing those spells he knew to be reliable and thought might be useful to Sam and Dean.

-o-

Sitting back, Bobby stared at the spells list he had compiled and gazed at his two remaining sheets of paper. He figured he could possibly get away with tearing the sheets in half and still get the effect he was looking for. Four blank pieces of paper meant he now had to decide which four spells to select from his list and the pressure was on him to decide which four would be the best. He was interrupted by his stomach grumbling loudly that it was hungry. Glancing at his watch, Bobby wandered into the kitchenette and, virtually on autopilot, haphazardly made himself a plate of sandwiches. Taking his food back to the table, he ate while staring at and crossing off spells one at a time. Had there been anyone around an hour later to ask him what had been on his sandwiches? Bobby would have had to think long and hard before possibly being able to answer, so intense was his focus on his task.

-o-

"Your most gracious Majesty, if it please you, may I present to you Prince Florimond, journeyed here from the Principality of The Brightlands."

Unmoving the Queen, with her retinue spread around her, waited for the prince to come to her, taking the opportunity to have her first look at the man whom Brier-Rose was supposed to be formally betrothed to at the birthday ball the following day. She was pleased to note how confidently the well-built prince strode down the narrow red carpet towards her. His man-at-arms, clearly having been caught by surprise, was left needing to break into a scuttle in order to catch up with his master. Queen Abaddon's gaze noted how the pale blue of his outfit complimented the prince's tan and his dark hair. In particular it drew attention to the blue of his eyes and the bright, happy smile on his face.

-o-

Arriving in front of the Queen, the prince dropped down onto one knee and bowed his head.

"Your most beauteous Majesty. I am Prince Florimond, and I am forever at your service. I thank you for your kindness in inviting me into your home. If I may? I have come bearing gifts, small tokens of the friendship this marriage will seal between our respective lands. Might I present my gift to yourself?

Reaching a hand back to the man-at-arms standing behind him, the prince clicked two fingers and held his hand flat, palm upward. The Queen narrowed her eyes as she saw a small, fleeting grimace flutter across the mouth of the man-at-arms before he stepped forward, his expression now unreadable. Into the prince's waiting hand, the man dropped a white leather box, ornately tooled and decorated with gold leaf. The prince returned his attention to the Queen, holding the box reverently

"Please, Your Majesty, it would do me a great honour if you were able to accept this tiny insubstantial gift, along with my thanks."

-o-

Curious, the Queen gave the prince a nod of her head and took the box. Carefully lifting it's lid, she peered inside, inspecting it's contents. Her eyes widened very briefly before she looked down again at the still kneeling prince with even _more_ interest than she'd had when watching him move lithely across the grand hall towards her. Putting her well-manicured hand inside the box, she drew out a four inch long, pear shaped, natural cornflower blue diamond. Clearly cut and shaped by an expert, the perfect stone glittered in her hand. For a moment the prince was forgotten as the Queen held the beautiful gem up between her forefinger and thumb, staring in amazement at the gift, a delighted smile blossoming on her lips. The prince's voice served to remind the Queen what she was supposed to be doing.

"The stone was mined in a cavern hidden within my lands. I had them cut and shape it in honour of this wonderful occasion. It is named Blue Rose...I hope it is acceptable to Your Majesty?"

The Queen closed her hand around the stone, not wanting to return it to it's box, and smiled down at Prince Florimond, holding her other hand out to him.

" _My dear boy_! Florimond! _Please_ , stand. You must be worn out from your journey. Here, take my arm, come, allow me to escort you to your quarters to freshen up. Then you _must_ join the King and I for refreshments. I want to hear _all_ about your lovely lands. The princess is _sooo_ excited about your betrothal, she is utterly is _desperate_ to meet you later. You two young things _must_ have some time alone together. My, but I was never told what a _handsome_ young man you are..."

The Queen's voice faded away as she almost skipped off, clinging tightly to the prince's arm, as if she was ensuring he didn't decide to make a bid for freedom.

-o-

The man-at-arms stalled, uncertain what he should do, irritated that he had been overlooked. The Queen's personal valet wandered over, he cast a disinterested eye over the man.

"You. Go get your master's luggage then I'll have a boy take you the servant's route to his quarters. After that, find your way to the stables. I'll have your horses taken there and you can settle them in. Come and find me when that's done and I'll give you your next tasks."

The man-at-arms glared up at the taller valet.

"What about a drink first mate? An' maybe some grub? It's been a long trek for me too, you know!""

The valet's look became one of distain.

"Your first duty is to your master and to the welfare of those horses. After that I _may_ consider allowing a brief break. Now, on with you. Don't keep your master or the beasts waiting."

It was a very angry and extremely unhappy man-at-arms that muttered, cursed and stomped his way back outside for the prince's luggage.

-o-

Bobby finally settled on his choice of spells and wrote each one down on a separate piece of paper before rolling each one up tightly. He'd had to force himself not to keep having _just one more_ look at his list, worried he might not have made the right selection. In the end he had selected one from his list of offensive spells, two from defensive and one of the resistive type. Weary, he checked his watch again, trying to decide if he had enough time to grab a worthwhile amount of sleep? Whatever type of sleep the Dream Root induced, it was certainly neither refreshing or restful in nature. In the end he decided he couldn't take the risk of either telling his alarm to go screw and then rolling over, or of waking up after having had just enough sleep to make himself feel worse than he did right then. Wandering into Sam and Dean's room, although he knew it was dumb given the circumstances, he still felt a brief pang of jealousy as he stared at their sleeping forms.

"C'mon Singer, pull yourself together jackass. This pair need you to take care of 'em, so stop bein' such a pussy an' get the job done."

-o-

"I'm sorry. I must have misheard you darling. Ridiculous I know, but I could _swear_ I heard you say Prince Fol-de-rol was joining us for refreshments! _Obviously_ that wouldn't be possible! Because right now, he's on his way home, still very much the eligible bachelor...Isn't he dear?"

Silent, the Queen opened out her fisted hand, letting the King see what nestled and glittered in her palm.

"Ooo!"

"This came from out of the ground in his own lands."

"Ooooooo!"

"That's just what _I_ thought. Still want me to throw him out?"

-o-

Having had some time getting a feel for using a sword while decked out in his finest, Dean now despised his little one shouldered cape passionately, as it persistently flapped up in front of his face, a disadvantage that Sam had taken full advantage of. Back indoors, Dean had dumped his party clothes and collapsed on Sam's bed, falling asleep before Sam himself came back inside. Sam paused when he found Dean full length, on his front, soundly sleeping. Sam moved a little closer and, for the first time since discovering the older man was his brother, Sam was able to take time to really look at Dean's face, searching for some family resemblance, finding it in the sweep of Dean's eyebrows. Not having the heart to disturb the man, Sam snagged his kit bag from under the campaign bed and wandered back outside with that, his own sword and Deans. Settling himself down, he rummaged around inside his bag and drew out a tin box. Opening the box he relaxed happily in the sun and began cleaning and oiling the two swords.

-o-

After wine and cakes, the King remained seated and watched Prince Florimond being led away back to his quarters. As soon as the prince had disappeared from sight, the Queen prodded her husband to gain his attention.

"Well? What do you think? Handsome, isn't he? Do you think our daughter will like him?"

The King gazed adoringly at the huge ruby he held, given to him with the compliments of Prince Florimond; flinching when memory raised an image of the princess deep within the fiery red gem saying she loved him.

"He's ok I s'ppose. Bit of an idiot, but he seems like one of those, erm, _sensitive_ types that she prefers currently. I would suggest, my love, that we forget to mention his presence at the palace to our little angel. I'd much rather she attend the banquet under her own steam. Imagine how it would appear if she had to be dragged there by a couple of guards? Let's hope that when they meet, true love rears it's head."

"Well, he _was_ quite taken with her portrait, and he _is_ writing a poem for her."

"Like I said... _Sensitive_."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	10. Chapter 10

_**Appallingly** badly organised convention over, and ncsupnatfan now flown home __(with the sunshine packed in her rucksack)  
_ _leaving me blubbing at the airport._ _However, Jenson told me I've got to go visit her and see the beautiful area she_ _lives in.  
_ _Who am I to ignore his advice? Now...Where's that old suitcase?  
_ _Chapter 10  
_ -oOo-

Not really sure himself about the _why_ of it, Sam stood himself sideways on to Dean before trying to gently wake the sleeping man. The swift punch bypassed him, but still Sam swallowed hard at the recognition of where it _would_ have connected had he not trusted his instinct.

 _"_ _Whoa!_ Relax Dean! It's _me_...Sam...It's time to get up and get into your uniform; we're due to meet the Keeper... _Bobby_...Shortly...Dean?... _Deannick_?"

"S'mpson?"

" _Sam_...Are you with me yet? How are you feeling? I've warmed some ale ****** for you. Or if you'd rather, I can fix you some warm milk and honey. Which would you prefer? I'll bring it over to you. Or would you rather get up first?"

"Wha'? _..._ I'm fine. Warm ale is great. And since when did _you_ start being such a fuss-butt?"

On the outside, Sam grinned and brushed Dean's comment away, telling him not to get used to it, the real answer he kept to himself. _Since I found out you are my brother._

 ****** _A very weak breakfast ale, much like that drunk by medievil man in the real world as water could make an individual ill and tea/coffee wasn't yet available._

-o-

"Your bath is ready Your Highness."

Brier Rose bounced happily on her bed.

"Did you remember to make bubbles in it, and put out the pink towels, and is rubber ducky in there?"

"All just as you like it, Highness."

"Goody. I'll shout when I want my hair washing."

The process of getting the princess ready to be presented at her birthday banquet had begun and since hearing that she wasn't to be betrothed to some stranger, Brier Rose had been happy and amenable, enjoying the thoughts of being the centre of attention at her birthday banquet. She intended to shine that evening, impressing all the high and mighty guests with her flawless manners, her maturity and her witty conversation. Right now though, rubber ducky was floating around in her bath, waiting for her to go play.

-o-

Lady Garritass fluffed out the princess' gown that she was to wear that evening. Her mother had insisted this gown be made in a dusky pink fabric, the same shade as the flower her daughter was named after. It's fit looser than her birthday ball gown, it had a high collared neckline and it was tied around the waist by a broad, ivory ribbon formed into a large bow at Brier Rose's back The Queen had wanted _this_ gown to represent Brier Rose the child, still only sixteen years of age. The following day's white gown symbolised her daughter's transition into adulthood on the advent of her seventeenth birthday. Most people thought it was so much woolly nonsense. Brier Rose would still act like Brier Rose whether it was her last day of being sixteen, or her first day of being seventeen. How much could a person _really_ change in a single night?

"Awww. Listen to her, chatting away to that little duck toy. She's really still just a bairn** I'm _glad_ she's not going to be betrothed. There's plenty of time for _that_ kind of thing when she's older."

One of the younger ladies gave a short burst of laughter.

"But, earlier today you couldn't _wait_ for Prince whoever to turn up and take her away!"

Lady Garritass glanced towards the bathroom door before scowling at her junior.

"I'm sure I don't know _what_ you're talking about; and I'll thank you to keep your mouth still and your hands busy if you please!"

The junior Lady in Waiting glared and pursed her lips, her cheeks reddening, but she said nothing and returned to selecting jewellery that would compliment the colour of the gown.

"Cooeeee? I'm _re-deeeeee_!"

Nose in the air, Lady Garritass scuttled off to wash her mistress' hair.

 ** _**_** _Bairn = Baby_

-o-

Bobby reached down and brushed Sam's hair back off his face, disappointed when, as usual, there was no reaction from the deeply sleeping Hunter to his touch. Since hearing Dean moan, there had been no further sound or movement from either one of the brothers and Bobby found himself looking forward to the opportunity to speak with them and see them up and about, as they should be, even if he was interacting with them via the Dream Root and it wasn't the real life Sam and Dean, _his_ Sam and Dean.

"I gotta admit to the both of you, I ain't too happy 'bout leavin' the other two to deal with this, but unless they sort it themselves, I ain't gettin' you pair back any time soon. Oh, I know. They're _you_ ; but they ain't got your memories or your experience. They don't recall bein' trained for the job. It's like they're you goin' out on their first ever hunt, without your pa guidin' 'em through... _Shit_...C'mon Singer. No point gettin' maudlin'. Time to meet up with 'em, give 'em what help I can, then beam back outta there...Right...Let's go get this show rollin' boys."

-o-

"Oh, for goodness sake. Why isn't there a pumpkin patch close by when a poor little witch needs one?

Hands on her hips, the recently retired shop keeper witch stood by her car glowering at the corn fields all around her. Mice hadn't been a problem, she'd already caught two and they were currently sat trembling inside a small cage on the passenger seat of her vehicle. Everybody knew that the best vegetable for transforming into carriages were pumpkins but, despite driving around for the past four hours, she hadn't come across one solitary pumpkin patch. When she at last remembered it wasn't the right season for them, having wasted so much time searching, it simply infuriated her more and, with a wave of her fist, one field full of ripening corn instantly re-defined itself as a pumpkin field. While taking some satisfaction from knowing the transformation would both shock and enrage the farmer who owned the field, she herself could not make use of a single one of the now readily available pumpkins. If one could simply magic up any ingredient needed for any kind of spell work whenever one wanted, much of the skill, wisdom and artistry that practitioners of the craft have to master would become defunct, leaving the way open for any level of moron to become a witch or a warlock. And so, she needed to use a naturally created pumpkin, of which there were none available.

-o-

The witch sighed, telling herself not for the first time that, if her appearance in any of the dream sleeps she cast on people necessitated her own arrival being via carriage, she would have to remember to limit the use of those stories to times of the year when pumpkins were plentiful. As it was, she was going to have to be inventive and probably put up with a smaller sized carriage. She cast her mind back over the fields she had already passed in her search. _Broccoli it is then_. Climbing back into her car, she executed a speedy nine point turn, and sped off back towards the field of broccoli she had passed not long after her search began.

-o-

Bobby stared at the amount of dream root he had got left, trying to decide how long he was likely to need to be in Sam and Dean's dream this time around.

"Meet with the dream brothers, probably need to fill 'em in a bit about witches. Give 'em the scrolls an' explain how to use them. Remind 'em what will happen to the princess _and_ the real them if they screw up. Wish 'em luck an' leave 'em to it while I come back here to sit, get impatient about how long they're takin' and frustrated that I can't hold their hands, stare at my boys for any sign of 'em wakin'. I reckon that about covers it. So, say I'm gonna need an hour in their dream, then add in another fifteen minutes for good luck."

Bobby glanced at his watch.

"Enough time to have a cold beer before I get my blanket on an' swallow this shit down...Happy days."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11  
_ -oOo-

The prince sat back and read out loud the portion of his love poem to Princess Brier Rose that he had so far completed.

It is my honour to accept you as my betrothed here in this beautiful ballroom  
How beautiful the choir will sing their happy tune  
When at last we are wed in the merry month of June  
How romantic it will be to step outside with you to gaze up at the moon  
I long to hold you in my arms, the moment can never come too soon  
Your grace and beauty has me suddenly behaving like a loon.  
I want to jump and sing and dance like a baffoon.  
I will swear my love to you on each and every day of our honeymoon..."

The valet who had been allocated to look after the prince stood quietly in a corner of the room listening, and cringing at the appalling piece of creative "riting.

"I need to finish this off somehow."

In his own mind the valet responded with _Drown it? Stomp on it? Burn it! Yup, that's the one._

"The last line should clearly _be_ the last line, it should have a note of finality to it. What thoughts do _you_ have, good valet?"

"Oh...I agree Sir. It _definitely_ needs _something_ to finish it off."

"Perhaps something about my joy at the fact that she will be my Queen, but it has to rhyme, otherwise it is not a true poem. Hmmm...Honeymoon, honeymoon, let's see...Balloon, noon, spoon, afternoon...Ah, I _have_ it!...I have achieved inspiration!"

-o-

The prince bent his head back to his task, smiling happily then looking over to the valet again.

"I think this will work very well as a last line...My darling I confess, you make my heart swell as though it were a giant balloon...There, now will Princess Brier Rose like it do you think?"

"Um...It...Erm...Well, it does indeed rhyme Sir, without any doubt."

"Good. Then it is finished. Would you like to see the gift I have brought for her? You seem able to judge well whether she will like a thing."

The valet was surprised and flattered that the prince would ask his opinion and he stood a little taller, warming to the man he was here to serve.

"I am happy to help Your Highness."

"Excellent."

The prince produced a long, deep red velvet jewellery box from inside his doublet. Opening the lid, he held it towards the valet for his inspection. Nestled in black satin was a choker style necklace and matching ear rings. The valet's eyebrows shot upwards and his eyes widened at the sight of the glittering treasure.

-o-

"Forgive me Your Highness but, are those...?"

The prince frowned.

"Diamonds and rubies? Why? Does the princess not like such trinkets? Have I made an error? When I asked, I was told females like such things, is that not the case?"

The valet's eyes were still fixed on the intricately patterned pieces of jewellery studded with the finest pure white diamonds and rubies with such depth of colour they surely must feel hot to the touch.

"Y...Yes. I mean, the princess will most _certainly_ like your gift Highness. How could she not? I have never seen such delicate and yet complex pieces, they are simply breath taking. Princess Brier Rose will surely want to wear them immediately!"

The prince looked thoughtful, then smiled broadly at the valet.

"Then so she shall. Deliver these to her chambers with my regards and tell her I would very much like her to wear them for the banquet. Will you do that?"

The valet enthusiastically nodded yes.

"I shall carry them directly to Her Highness Your Highness."

-o-

Luckily for the prince, the valet was an honest man, a man of honour and, despite carrying a thing of such value it would buy him one of the finest ships there was, pay for a full crew, allow him to live a luxurious lifestyle _and_ enable him to sail away from his wife, the man was true to his word. There was immense excitement in the princess' chambers once it was known a gift had been brought there, and the courier was refusing to hand it over to anyone else but the princess herself and refusing to state who the gift was from, until the princess decided whether to unwrap it or not. Being the staid gentleman that he was, the valet was taken aback by the sight of the princess appearing dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe, her feet adorned by kitten heeled slippers oozing white feathery stuff and silver glitter. Her golden tresses were wrapped up in a white towel piled up like a second head on top of her own. It didn't take her very long before she was tearing expertly through the wrapping, pausing to stare at the expensive looking velvet box and stroking it with one hand. It _had_ to be from her parents, utterly _had_ to be. Only people as wealthy as them could afford whatever delights would come in a box such as this.

"Go on Mistress...Open it."

With Lady Garritass' encouragement, Brier Rose slowly opened the lid a little and peeked inside.

-o-

The princess squealed, her pitch high enough to disturb the slumber of a number of palace dogs.

"Oh...My... _Garters_! _Oh my garters_!"

Lady Garritass hopped from foot to foot, quite forgetting herself in her own excitement.

"Well girl? What _is_ it? Don't keep us all waiting!"

The princess either didn't hear or didn't care how her lady-in-waiting had just addressed her and she turned the box around so everyone could see it's contents. There was a collective gasp from her ladies, who all knew quality when they saw it. The valet puffed out his chest and cleared his throat, ready to deliver his message.

"His Royal Highness Prince Florimond of the Brightlands hopes his small gift pleases you and asks that you do the honour of wearing his gift at the banquet...Your Highness."

Brier Rose's eyes narrowed and she stared coldly at the instantly confused valet.

 **"** I'm sorry **...** _Whhoooo_ asks this?"

The valet suddenly felt like a man with a noose slung around his neck and who had spotted the executioner reaching for the drop lever.

"Um...If it pleases Your Highness...Um...Prince...Prince Florimond...Of the Brightlands. The, um, one to whom you are to be betro..."

-o-

The red velvet box and it's contents came flying directly towards the valet's face. He attempted to jerk his head to one side and out of the line of fire, the box however still managed a stinging clip to his ear in passing before hitting the floor and skidding helpfully towards the way out. So great was the princess' fury, her voice became little more than a biting hiss.

" _Out...Get out...Getoutgetoutgetout. I will be betrothed to_ _no one_! _Tell Prince Floppy-bonce I shall not be attending any banquet and he can wear that piece of trash himself. **Out**!"_

Brier Rose's slipper followed the hapless valet out of the door.

Her ladies-in-waiting remained frozen to the spot, none of them daring to be the first to move or speak as the princess stood panting and staring at the open door through which the valet had scurried.

-o-

The rise and fall of Brier Rose's chest began to slow as her breathing started to return to something like normal, her attention remained firmly on the doorway when, in a measured voice, she finally spoke to the huddled group of women.

"Those of you who have your own homes to go to...Leave now."

She had no need to repeat her instruction as, heads bowed, unwilling to catch her eye, three of her retinue hurriedly filed out, Mary Lou being the last to leave, quietly closed the door behind her. The princess turned to Lady Garritass, her eyes suddenly beginning to glisten with threatened tears.

"He lied to me...Papa _lied_ to me! I don't _want_ to marry just anyone! What about True Love?"

The princess began genuinely sobbing.

"Aw, my little one, hush, hush there."

Hugging the girl close to her, Lady Garrittas looked sternly over Brier Rose's head at the remaining women.

"All of you...Go to your rooms. Say nothing of this to anyone and remain in your rooms until tomorrow. _Go on_. And remember, our mistress was in good spirits when you left here. Anyone saying any different will answer to me... _Understand_?"

The chambers quickly emptied of all but the princess and her senior lady-in-waiting.

-o-

Ensuring the door was locked, Lady Garritass ushered the heartbroken girl to a chair by the fireplace.

"Here, sit yourself down my little Rosebud, there, there now."

The princess sniffed noisily.

"I'll have to run away. Run away and never, ever come back, not until I've found True Love anyway...Will you help me?"

Lady Garritass sighed.

"I thought you might say that, my little Rosepetal."

-o-

There was little time to ready themselves further in the short time available to them before their appointment with the Keeper. Taking down his bed, Sam stole frequent glances at Dean while the man made them both a warming milk drink. He was incredulous at how calm Dean appeared. He knew trained soldiers who would be showing more nervousness than this gardener was. He wondered whether it was because Dean had no recall of previous quests or battles and, therefore, didn't know well enough to be anxious?

"How are you feeling, brother?"

Sam's sharp eyes caught the slight stiffening in Dean's back at the word _brother_.

"I'm fine."

"I can see that, and it worries me."

Dean turned, holding two pitch lined leather tankards filled with hot milk sweetened with honey, he gave Sam a puzzled look.

"But, that doesn't make any sense. You're worried because I'm alright? You've not given yourself brain damage drinking the rose feed while I slept, have you?"

Ignoring Dean's response, Sam pressed ahead.

"Most people setting out to challenge a witch would feel some degree of anxiety, even trained soldiers. It's alright to have some fear and doubt, it's normal. How _you_ seem, well..."

" _Well_ what? You think I'm abnormal?"

Sam frowned.

"You know that's not what I'm trying to say Dean."

There it was again, that momentary stiffening, in his shoulders this time.

"How can _you_ know _what_ I know?"

"Because I can. Because I believe Bobby. Because we _are_ brothers, whether you like it or not. _That's_ how."

-o-

The heat that was starting to bristle within Dean rapidly cooled and he sat down at his small, rough wood dining table, setting his tankard down but keeping hold of the handle, gazing in the direction of but not actually at the tankard for a brief moment. When he spoke, he kept his eyes averted from Sam.

"Fine...I might not be showing it on the outside, but I _am_ worried. I'm worried about things _way_ more important than some witch hunt. I'm worried the Keeper might be lying to us, about us being brothers, just so we'll take on this task. I don't _want_ it to be a lie Sam, I don't. It would be like loosing you. And I _am_ afraid...I'm afraid I could possibly loose you anyway while we're trying to keep the princess safe. Truth is, her safety isn't anything _like_ as important to me as yours. But, the only thing I can do to keep _you_ safe is keep _her_ safe. Everything I thought of as my life has just gone crazy, because of one man who, for all I know, might actually _be_ crazy! My head's a wreck, so I'm dealing as best I can, by pretending it isn't a _big_ deal...Alright? Is that better?"

Sam said nothing. Moving across to Dean he heaved his brother upright and into a bear hug, reciprocated by Dean once his initial shock subsided.

"Everything will be fine, you and I together can keep Princess Prissy safe and we _will_ wake up in a world where we are true brothers. I'm certain of it Dean."

"I believe you, so don't go spoiling everything by getting yourself killed, that's all I ask. Except, can we stop all this girly hugging now?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing,_ _I will be responding individually now life is less hectic  
_ _(Missing you big sis)  
_ _Chapter 12  
_ -oOo-

There was nowhere for the mice to run from the fingers waving around inside the small cage and in no time they were both dangling by their tails from the witch's forefinger and thumb. Quaking, they began scrabbling frantically in mid-air at the sight of a giant, staring eyeball, then words which sounded to them like thunder crashing around them came out from the cavernous mouth. A few sparks later, and two horses stared at one another in surprise. One automatically tried to twitch it's nose, resulting in the odd sight of a gurning horse. Ignoring them, the witch placed her vegetable on the ground and stood back, looking at it critically.

"Emerald?... _No!_ What am I thinking? _Far_ too showy Delilah Grimwattle! Absolutely _guaranteed_ to draw everyone's attention...Right. Verdigris it is then. Maybe I can persuade it to have the odd streak of copper showing through. Like that half-cocked, half finished _tat_ folk tell themselves is Shabby Chic. Not a fat lot else I can think of that'd suit. Bloody broccoli!...Right, I think that's everything then...Oops! Nearly forgot. Better change what I'm wearing. One posh frock coming up."

-o-

The Queen carried out a final inspection of herself in her gilded full length mirror. With a frown she made a small adjustment to how the heavy weight gold and jewel coated formal royal crown sat on her head, and again wished she had the freedom to wear one of the new fangled feathery, frothy, veiled, teeny tiny on your head, whatsits that it seemed all the women had taken to wearing, perched jauntily to one side. She ran her hands down over the skirt of her evening gown, brushing out imagined creases and smiled. Her gown, she loved. Made from a rich plum coloured silk, the extremely tightly fitted bodice had a front modesty panel of ivory silk which was heavily and intricately embroidered with bronze metallic thread. Worn with just two stiff petticoats underneath, she felt the skirt had a more natural line to it, and the lack of hoops meant sitting down was no longer at risk of becoming a round of "Show and Tell". Over her shoulders she draped a bronze lace shawl as delicate as a spider's web. Ivory pearls gleamed at her throat and hung from her ears. With her face perfectly painted, nails beautifully manicured and her hair left streaming loose down her back, the Queen smiled at her own reflection. _Babe, you're gonna utterly knock_ _'_ _em dead mon, innit, 'ow you sashay t'ru that banqueting hall_. Spinning around on her golden slippers, she called for her chief lady in waiting, leaving behind the way she imagined commoner's outside the palace's confines spoke to one another.

"Hannah dear...Time to go collect the Princess. I _so_ hope she will surprise me by being ready on time...Hannah? Come along, do try to keep up won't you?"

-o-

Bobby reluctantly turned away from the sight of the two sleeping brothers and headed into his own room, clutching a tumbler containing the dream root in one hand and four rolled up pieces of paper in the other. Setting the tumbler down, he put his head through the hole he'd cut in his rough blanket for what he hoped would be the last time for all the right reasons. Not bothering to belt it, he sat down on the edge of his bed and gazed at the paper he still grasped.

"Can't see any reason this _won't_ work, always been fine an' dandy with the blanket. Guess I'll be knowin' soon enough. Right Singer, down the hatch an' over the rainbow...Or some such."

Bobby stretched out on his back and closed his eyes.

-o-

"Erm...Please pardon the interruption Your Highness, I have just come from the princess' chambers...Um...Might I speak freely Sir?"

The prince stopped straightening his cravat and turned at the worried tone in the valet's voice.

"Of course you may. What is the problem?"

Um...Your Highness...Sir...It's the princess...She is refusing to attend the banquet...Sir."

"I don't understand?"

The valet took a deep breath and explained what had happened and what the princess had said while the prince listened in silence, looking more and more thoughtful.

"Thank you for relaying this incident to me. It sounds very much like she was not told to expect my arrival. This will have been a great shock to her delicate nerves...However, I believe I may have the solution. Guide me to her chambers my friend."

The valet's eyes opened wide.

"Are...Are you sure about this Your Highness?"

"I am certain...Lead on."

-o-

It was a shoe issue that allowed fate to intervene and delay the princess' escape just long enough. Brier Rose simply couldn't find the right sort of shoes required for running away in and so she and Lady Garritass were still inside the shoe room, throwing pair after pair onto a growing mountain of rejects, when someone rapped on the door to Brier Rose's chambers.

-o-

"What do you mean you're not opening the door? Unlock it at _once_ young lady, I am your mother _and_ your Queen. You sprang from my very loins, I have raised you and cared for you and given you _everything_. Now you will repay me by **_opening this spitting door!_** _"_

The princess' voice flowed back to the Queen, sounding calm, and yet clearly up for a fight.

"Well first, I didn't actually _ask_ to be born, _did_ I? So I don't owe you for _that_ one. Second, _you_ chose to keep me, if you didn't _want_ to raise me you should've got rid of me, so not really my problem. _And,_ you're a _liar_. You never gave me everything...You never gave me the baby sister I wanted, _did_ you? I would've even put up with a brother if I had to, but you've never even let me have a _puppy_ of my very own to call my friend."

The Queens patience was frayed.

"Don't be an idiot, child. You don't need a puppy, you've got lots of proper _people_ friends!"

"Have not."

The Queen smirked, she was about to win the debate and all this silliness could end.

"Oh _really_? So tell me this...Who are all those young people who will be attending your birthday party tomorrow evening...Hmmm?"

Brier Rose's voice was so filled with genuine sadness that it instantly brought Lady Garritass to her side where she wrapped a comforting arm around the princess' waist.

"I don't know momma...I've never met most of them. They all belong to _yours_ and _papa's_ friends, and a whole load of people a King and Queen have to pretend to get on with. Even the few names I sort of recognised, were only here because their parents were visiting you and papa. You always had them brought to my chambers to get rid of them, and they were always _ordered_ to play with me. Usually they would sit and sulk till they could go...I've been utterly lonely for nearly seventeen years. Am I supposed to forget that? Just because _now_ you're planning to marry me off to some miserable old Prince Fart-a-lot? Well momma? I _utterly_ refuse...So _there_!"

-o-

The Queen gave Prince Florimond, who had arrived in time to hear Brier Rose say she was lonely and hear her pet name for him, an embarrassed smile of apology. The prince put a finger to his lips by way of asking for the Queen's silence and he stepped up to the locked door. Unfurling a sheet of paper, he cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

"It is my honour to accept you as my betrothed here in this beautiful ballroom.

How beautiful the choir will sing their happy tune,

When at last we are wed in the merry month of June..."

-o-

Inside her quarters, Brier Rose and her Lady-in-waiting glanced at each other at the unexpected sound of a male voice reciting a love poem. The princess put her perfect ear against the door, keen to hear more of the poem that the rather pleasant voice was aiming towards her, finding herself growing increasingly curious about the face that went with the voice. She giggled with delight at the notion that her beauty was great enough to cause a prince to "act like a loon", and squeaked at the heady romance of a commitment to saying _I love you_ each and every single day of a promised honeymoon. Realising suddenly that the poem had come to an end, Brier Rose spoke through the locked door.

"Who is it, sir, that reads poetry outside my private chambers?"

"It is I...Prince Florimond...Your devoted miserable old fart-a-lot, my beloved. And I personally wrote this poem as my tribute to your most beauteous self."

Brier Rose blushed. The voice had written _the_ most meaningful poem in the whole world, and it was all about her! She had to see his face, just to confirm her certainty that, despite his romantic words, he _was_ still an _ugly_ , _old, fat, miserable, fart-a-lot_ who she wouldn't marry if he were utterly the only prince left in the whole world. Muscles tensed, Brier Rose silently unlock the door and peeked out through a narrow gap, she and Lady Garritass were both ready to slam it closed and lock it again.

-o-

The Keeper glanced down at his attire before he dared to look at his rolls of scrap paper. He was relieved and happy to see that in this dreamer's world, once again his real world rough blanket had transformed into the robes of a Keeper. In his hand, he was elated to find he was now holding four rolled fine parchment scrolls, each scroll tied with coloured silk cords intended to act as an aide memoir. One was tied with dark blue cord, one with black and two bound with silver grey. Hurriedly unfastening them, Bobby checked each one. Satisfied, he re-rolled them carefully, finishing tying off the final scroll at the same time as a firm knocking sounded against his front door.

"Good. Right on time."

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13  
_ -oOo-

The gate guards watched half heartedly as a small green carriage drawn by two horses who seemed to be pulling at differing speeds weaved and rumbled it's way along the path leading directly to the palace. There had been a seemingly endless stream of golden, silver or polished wood carriages of all shapes and sizes, this was the first dumpy looking green one. As it drew closer, one of the guards nodded his head in it's direction.

"What d'you reckon lads? Think we should charge yon driver wi' drink drivin'? Way yon carriage's ziggy-zaggin' along, it's prob'ly took round twice the miles it needed to get 'ere!"

The complete lack of response from his companions gave him his answer.

"Yeah, you're right, not worth the paperwork. I'll go check the occupier's invite an' wave 'em through then."

It wasn't until much later the thought occurred to the guard that there had actually been no carriage _driver_ present. He decided to keep quiet, he'd already been up in front of the Captain for being drunk on duty.

-o-

Madam Sproutulyke, Green Grocer by Royal Appointment, A.K.A. Delilah Grimwattle, Wicked Witch, stared around at the tiny room allocated to her namesake.

"Should've skryed out someone a bit more important than the green grocer to bump off...Wonder if they offer upgrades in this place?

-o-

"Ladeeeeeees and most hhhonourable gentlemennnn...Pleeeese be upstanding for your most gracious hosts the King and Queen, along with their _beeeeautiful_ daughter, in who's honour we are gath...Um, please would you all excuse me just one _tinsy_ moment...  
 _Well? What is it?...Really?...Oh! I see...I_ _ **see**_ _! My goodness!...  
_ Ah _...Most_ honoured guests; my _sincere_ apologies for the interruption...It is now my _extremely_ happy duty to present to you, Their Royal Majesties, The King and Queen, accompanied by their beloved daughter, The Princess Brier Rose, along with her most handsome and eligible escort, _Prince Florimond of the Brightlands_!"

All eyes belonging to the mothers of as yet unmarried daughters focused in on the beaming prince, who seemed to be oblivious of the sudden interest in him and, in particular, his status as a princely eligible bachelor.

-o-

The royal group took their seats, followed by all the guests. Once everyone was settled, the King stood up again and cleared his throat.

"Friends, comrades, loyal subjects, welcome. On behalf of myself and my family we are delighted that you are here to celebrate with us my daughter's seventeenth birthday tomorrow. And on a _doubly_ happy note, it is with extreme pleasure that I am able to announce that our much loved Brier Rose will, at tomorrows birthday ball, become formally betrothed to marry His Royal Highness, Prince Florimond. I ask you all to please be upstanding and to raise your glasses in a toast to Princess Brier Rose and Prince Florimond. May they both live happily ever after."

The mothers of the unmarried daughters took disappointed tiny sips of wine and hoped for better luck finding potential husband material for their girls at the following evening's ball. Knocking back all her wine in one swig, the witch fixed a suspicious, beady eyed glare onto the prince, knowing with absolute certainty, _something_ had gone very wrong...There wasn't supposed to _be_ a prince at this stage in the game, let alone a _betrothal_!

-o-

She needed to think. She needed space and quiet. She needed to trace the problem. She _really_ needed to get away from these nattering concoctions of spell induced dream sleep inhabitants before she gave into the temptation to remove all their mouths. Explaining that she wished to powder her nose, Delilah politely excused herself to the people sat on either side of her and left the banqueting hall, heading back to her room. Along her route she smiled pleasantly and nodded each time she passed a royal guard at his post, and each of those guards promptly forgot he had ever seen her go by. Once outside her room she began to fish around in her purse for the door key, and froze with one hand still inside... _Him_! Of _course_. Who else could it be? No one. There was _no one_ else it could logically be, surely? In her mind's eye she was looking down out of a window and watching a bearded man in a baseball cap walking towards a black car she had recognised...That damned third Hunter _._

-o-

Once inside, the witch flung her purse across the short space her accommodation allowed before beginning to pace in a tight circle.

" _Stupid, stupid, stupid_!"

She began ranting out loud at herself, she could have kicked herself over and over, had there been room to.

"Stupid, stupid crone...Should've gone after him...Should've finished him...Not let him get out the shop even...Although, I didn't know he knew them till I saw that damned car. Ok; but I _still_ should've gone after him, instead of concentrating on clearing out of there!...No, no. Be fair Delilah. How were _you_ to know that _he_ knew about this kind of stuff? Never met one _before_ who did. How come _this_ one's so damned clever? Why didn't I pick up he was different to the rest while the smart ass was in the store? Although...The freak _did_ only buy plain gofer du...? _No!_... _By the ass of_ _Beelzebub!..._ Hex bags!...But then?... _Hell inna handbag!_ That rattle snake _has_ to know at _least_ one of the ways to prod other folks' dreams. And that means he's almost _sure_ to have had words with my two latest contestants. Oh yes, it's _definitely_ his meddling interference that's caused changes to how the story should go. Course, Delilah, it's possible the pair of them didn't listen, maybe decided he was just some raving lunatic? No...I can't, _won't_ , take that chance !"

-o-

It was a shame; she'd never put a Hunter into one of her games before and she'd been excited to see whether the pair she had entrapped would figure out who they were, _where_ they were and then what needed to be done without any of her usual nudges and clues to get things going. But, this game had been terminally compromised. The best she could do now was to take care of the two dream boys herself. If she killed them here, then their real world, real bodies would also die. She'd call this one " _game over_ " and move on in the real world. Maybe go visit Canada for a while? _Or_ _somewhere._ Having decided that her best strategy would be not to stand out, the witch hurried to re-join the banquet.

-o-

Opening the door, the Keeper's eyes twinkled at the sight of Dean and his obvious discomfort at wearing the soldier's uniform.

"Well, don't you look just dandy? Lovin' the itsy bitsy cloak; shrunk in the wash did it?"

Dean kept his face straight.

"Just remind me old man, you an' me, we're supposed to actually _like_ one other?"

Bobby beamed, for one brief moment, there was Hunter Dean, not palace gardener Dean, _his_ Dean.

Sam strolled on inside passed the pair.

"Mind if I help myself to a drink while you two squabble? Um, _here's_ a thought...The alcohol in _here_? I'm not _imagining_ it whenever I have a drink...Am I?"

Dean gave Sam a look of dismay.

"Brother! _Please_. Did you _have_ to ask that out loud? I mean, alright, so _I'm_ not entirely the real thing, but the food? Alcohol? Come on...That's _too_ harsh!"

While Bobby would have liked to keep quiet and enjoy the banter between the pair, he didn't have the time. He pulled on his improvisation skills.

"You two ever hear the sayin' _two wrongs don't make a right_?...Good...Well here, in this world, sometimes _two_ _imaginin's can make a real_. Got it?"

Dean grinned.

"I think so...Imaginary me, plus imaginary mead, equals _real_ mead for me? That works. Sam? Make mine a mead...What's the scrolls you've got Kee... _Bobby_? Anything to do with our situation?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14  
_ -oOo-

Sam stared, fascinated, at the scroll he had unfurled.

"Why have we never had access to these things before? Imagine how useful they would be in battle! Scrolls that allow _anyone_ to cast simple magic, such as this spell with which you can restrain your enemy, stopping him from moving!"

Bobby removed the scroll from Sam and rolled it up again.

" _Sure_...They'd be great to use in battle, really give you the advantage. But how long before your enemy got scrolls of their own? Then _you'd_ have'ta get better scrolls, one's that do _more_ damage an' are _more_ powerful than your enemy's. An' you'd be winnin' again; leastways till your enemy produced scrolls that could cause more destruction than yours. That dance'd carry on, till both sides had the power to completely annihilate the world. Now...You probably think neither side would be so retarded, screwed up or asinine as to destroy _all_ life, _including_ themselves, in the spectacularly feeble-minded belief they'd somehow be the " _winner"_ on a dead world where nobody's left to give a shit. Absurd as it might seem, you'd be very, very wrong...As real world Dean would say, _Monsters I get, but people are crazy_...Right, down to business. Either of you any memories of comin' up against a witch before?"

-o-

Sam frowned unhappily at Bobby, not at all comfortable that Bobby's real world research had been unable to uncover any details specific to their witch.

"So in reality, Dean and I will be going in blind? What're we supposed to do? Wait for her to step forward and reveal herself by casting some evil spell onto the princess? I'm sorry but, I thought we were supposed to keep Brier Rose safe, not have to use her as bait?"

Bobby gazed at the brothers sadly.

"You know, Hunters don't go armed with an identikit picture of what they're after for every Hunt. Most times they gotta rely on instinct an' ground work. You might not have their memories to hand, but make no mistake, you are _part of_ Sam an' Dean, two of the finest Hunters in the game. Believe in that one hundred percent, an' trust what your gut tells you...I'm hopin' I've managed to bring somethin' along to help keep you both safe...Hold on..."

-o-

Bobby reached down inside his robe and pulled out two small bags, hitching an eyebrow and taking a closer look when he saw the transformation of his own roughly sewn handiwork into two finely stitched silk bags, both hand embroidered with a sigil representing protection, each bag was drawn and tied closed with soft cord made of plaited gold thread.

"These were... _Are_...They're Hex bags...Um...They um...Yeah... _Hex_ bags..."

-o-

Sam and Dean glanced at one another. Dean leaned forward, looking at Bobby with concern.

"Are you alright Sir? Is something wrong?"

Bobby's eyes met the younger man's. Both brothers could see he looked shaken.

"I bought _gofer dust! Damitt_! "

Neither of the in dream Sam or Dean understood the strange reference. Dean made a half jokey attempt to show some empathy with Bobby's apparent displeasure over his purchase

" _Oh no_! Wrong type of dust? Don't tell me...You _meant_ to buy the dust that grows under beds?"

" _No_ , idjit, it's _not_... _Look_ , this could be bull, so don't go stakin' your lives on it, ok? First off, I _can_ guarantee your witch is an adult female, so I'd start by checkin' out any that always seem to be stayin' close to the princess but don't seem familiar to her. If you notice any of 'em happen to have grey eyes, not _pretty_ , a handsome woman, pay attention to her first. _Especially_ if she's tall for a woman an' looks to have long dark grey hair, whether it's tied up or loose. If you _do_ spot anybody like that, take a look at their wrists. If you can see a whole load of different coloured bracelets made out of coloured cotton thread? You can be about certain you've hit jackpot an' found your witch...That's a description of the junk store keeper back in my world who sold me the gofer dust."

-o-

Sam swiftly latched onto Bobby's concern.

"And now you're thinking maybe she's responsible for all of this?"

Feeling gutted, Bobby's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

"Why in Hell's name didn't I see it?...I _should'a_ seen it, all that trash and fake crap she'd got on sale, but she brought gofer dust out from the back! What if she was the real deal? Jeeze, I might'a been able to end this shit right there! Instead...Instead I've let the both of you down, after you called for help. Boys? It don't help I know, but I'm truly sorry. I feel real bad, you turned to me an' all I've done is make an amaturish _screw_ up outta everythin'. If there was anythin', _anythin'_ I could do..."

Sam stepped forward and put a hand on the distressed man's shoulder.

"Sir? Bobby? Listen, if it weren't for you I'd still believe my name is Samuel, he would be Deannick, and _neither_ of us would know we are brothers. We'd think this world was real, we wouldn't know about the witch or what she'd done to us. And, at some point in the next twenty four hours, a seventeen year old dream princess would prick her finger and another us, the _real_ us we didn't even know existed, would be dead within a few days. Bobby, you've given us a chance to fight back, to maybe save the real Sam and Dean. And you've even provided us with the scrolls and bags that could make all the difference. You haven't let us down at all."

Dean nodded.

"Sam's right Bobby. The _only_ reason we have a chance in all this is because of you, and we _still_ need you so, come on, anything else we need to consider?"

Bobby lifted his head and looked at the expectant gaze of the two brothers. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

"None of that changes how crap I feel but you're right, dwellin' on my balls-up don't help you right now...So ok."

Bobby switched his focus directly onto Sam, deliberately adjusting his speech pattern and his language to target the palace soldier in this version of the youngest Hunter.

-o-

"Listen up. From midnight you're operatin' in a maximum twenty four hour window for this mission. _But_ , the witch can make her play to get the princess up an personal with clo a spinnin' wheel at _any_ point in that period. Right? An' whenever she makes her move, if she succeeds, straight away it's _game over_ and you two lose. So, don't hang about. If you can, soon as you think you've ID'd her, move in. Only time too hold off is if there's too big 'a risk to either civilians or royals. In a nutshell. You have to get to _her,_ before _she_ gets to your princess...Any questions?"

-o-

The soldier in Sam had no doubts or concerns regarding what future waited for the witch once they had her, his only thought was to ensure things were carried out in the correct way.

"Once we have the crone, sir, in order to bring her illusion to an end, is there a particular method I should utilise when I execute her?"

Bobby stared, taken aback by the matter-of-fact words and the lack of emotion in Sam's voice, especially coming so soon after Sam's attempt to console him. Unbidden, a memory instantly flared up of the version of Sam who had no soul and Bobby wondered. Was he seeing a snapshot of _that_ Sam? The colour bleached Sam that Dean had once intuitively described back then as a _photocopy_? ******

As for himself, Sam shuffled uncomfortably, both puzzled and embarrassed by the older man's suddenly intense stare, and he glanced to his brother for support. In doing so he unintentionally reassured Bobby that _this_ Sam had concerns for how others viewed him, that he cared. Dean jumped to his brother's rescue.

"I should explain Bobby. In this place, the witches actions against the princess at her naming ceremony qualified as treason, as would any other action she takes which is designed to try to harm the princess, not only during the coming period but also at any other time. The sentence for any treasonous act is death. There is no alternative punishment to be considered.

Sam looked again at Bobby, hoping the older man now understood why he raised the issue of the witch's execution.

"That's right sir. What he just said."

**Tie in to an older drabble : **_Seeing In Black And White_** _(And while I'm at it, the chance to shamelessly advertise one of my own two favourite drabbles. Both of which wrote themselves. I was only there to drive the keyboard. Love for you to check it out if you've time.)_

-o-

Bobby nodded his understanding.

"I get it lad, an' I'm sorry. Just caught me by surprise there is all. See, _my_ Sam an' Dean have a rule; they don't kill humans...Well, not with an easy conscience they don't, an' most witches tend to be human. Course, we've regularly debated the rule when it comes down to witches. See, sure they might be human, but they're humans who're usin' supernatural powers to harm other humans. So...Does that mean they're closer to bein' a monster? In the end, the decision's gonna be on you two yourselves an' you'll have to make that judgement call. _But_ , if you have to kill her? You make it quick n' clean, say, takin' her head. Unless it's the only single way to bring an end to a monster, then only an unhinged Godforsaken deviant chooses to burn anything alive, no matter _what_ lies they concoct to excuse themselves...Do I make myself clear?"

Both brothers quickly nodded, with Sam adding "As fine crystal Sir, but you needn't worry, cruel brutalisation and the evil of torture has _never_ been our way."

"Good to hear... _Balls_! Almost forgot, the Hex bags! Here. Keep 'em tucked inside your shirt, they'll offer _some_ protection, but don't make the mistake of thinkin' they'll make you damn near invincible. An' the scrolls. I apologise for only bringin' four of 'em in total, an' for each of 'em bein' one shot only. You'll have to decide between yourselves if it's best to share 'em, an' who gets which scroll. Trick to usin' 'em is to say the words on the scroll out loud fast as you can, then tear the scroll in two, throwin' one part to your left an' the other right. I need the both of you to keep in mind that the hag might go for counterin' 'em if she knows you've cast, so try usin' 'em discreet...Any more questions so far?"

"Actually, yes... _I_ have one for you."

-o-

Bobby and Sam both turned their attention to Dean, Bobby smiled at him encouragingly.

"Go on son, let's hear it."

Dean paused, staring at the floor before taking a deep breath and continuing in a quiet voice.

"You've said if we fail this task, our real selves won't wake up...So, how about if it's successful...But one of us...Only _one_ of us in this world survives?...What then in _your_ world?"

Bobby was horrified by what Dean was asking, particularly because it brought home to him the possibility that one of the two in front of him might, indeed, be killed while trying to save a princess who wasn't even real, just a story book character realised in a supernatural dream.

" _Son-of-a-bitch_ Dean! Keep an eye on the _bright_ side why don'cha? Ok...I'll answer honestly as far as I can, but only if _you_ keep tellin' yourself there's a good chance I'm _waaay_ off the reservation here. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Alright. Well, my _guess_ is, only the survivor would wake up back in my world."

" _Just_ the survivor?"

" _Honestly_ son? There's no way for me to know for sure. Believe it or not, this' a first for me! I've never come across a situation exactly like this before. Hell, far as _I_ know, maybe you're _really_ both meant to sit around here an' watch the story play out without interferein', though that's damned unlikely. So yeah... _Just_ the survivor. I _do_ think that's how it'd be..."

-o-

Dean's expression was unreadable.

"Thank you, Keeper. You've given us both a lot of help, but Sam and I need to take our leave. It's time for you to leave this up to us now."

Bobby stood at the same time as Dean.

" _Whoa_! You hold it _right_ there young man. How many more times? The name's _Bobby_...An' I _know_ you Dean Winchester! Don't you even _start_ thinkin _'_ about goin' an' doin' somethin' dumbass! _You hear me_? I'll be expectin' you _both_ to be wakin' up demandin' coffee an' food. _Have you got that_?"

Sam stared at his older brother.

"Winchester? _That's_ our surname?...We're Sam and Dean Winchester."

Dean's smile returned.

"I like it. Feels right Sammy, doesn't it?... Sir? Bobby? We really do need to get over to the palace, we want to make certain we're at our posts before the stroke of midnight. But, know this. We _will_ see you again, _both of us_. Soon."

While Dean made his way out of the Keeper's quarters, Sam threw Bobby a grin.

"No need to worry Bobby. I'll keep a close eye on him and make certain he doesn't do anything totally idiotic."

Bobby looked at Sam seriously.

"Only one sure fire way to stop him son, an' that's to make certain you keep _yourself_ safe."

Puzzled, Sam would have liked the chance to glean more from the older man however, Dean's impatient shout instructing Sam to hurry his goodbye along didn't allow him the opportunity.

"I'll do my best Bobby, thank you again for the scrolls and the bags. You can count on seeing us later, back in the waking world."

"I'm holdin' you to that youngster...Now _amscram_!"

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15  
_ -oOo-

The violence of the crushing headache that hit Bobby as soon as tried to open his eyes on his return to his bed in the motel room instantly caused him to feel overwhelmingly nauseous, he quickly closed his eyes again and rolled onto his side groaning, battling the urge to give up, give in and throw up straight onto the bedroom carpet. He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths, trying to work his way through the agony, glad he didn't have a blade close to hand, half convinced it would have been sorely tempting to set about hacking off his own head. After a while of lying still and quiet, focusing on controlling each breath, his stomach churning sickly feeling had calmed down a little and, when he cracked one eye open, he didn't think the sharp, stabbing pain through his skull that went with the action was as strong as it had been. He decided to try first for sitting up, and then consider going all out and aiming for standing up. At the first opportunity, he planned to make a note in his journal recommending a maximum amount of Dream Root that anyone should try taking in one twenty four hour period, and to back up his recommendation by recording his own experience of having taken more than the limit he was now advising. Right now though, all he wanted was to make it to the bathroom and splash cold water over his face before going to check on his boys.

-o-

It took a huge amount of effort for Bobby to gradually move until he was, at last, sitting upright on the edge of his bed. The change in his position increased his dizziness and nausea at first, but remaining quietly sat helped the sensations to settle a touch until, at last, he felt ready to tackle the next stage, standing up. Bobby's surprised delight at managing to get to his feet unfortunately didn't last for more than a couple of seconds then, with a sigh of _Balls_ , he collapsed; already out cold before landing face down on his bedroom floor.

-o-

Being extremely familiar with the layout of the palace grounds, neither the soldier or the gardener required a burning torch to light their way. Having automatically taken point, Sam eventually slowed his pace and waited for Dean to move alongside him.

"We'll head left from here and take the short cut through the cherry orchard, it's way quicker that way."

Dean looked shocked.

"Do you often use my orchard as a short cut then?"

Once again walking in front of Dean, Sam answered without turning.

" _Sure._ We all do. It's best when the different orchards are in fruit, then you can grab a handy snack while you walk."

Dean gasped.

"A handy...? _Trembling trebuchets_! And I blamed the local wildlife!"

"No, all innocent, it was the Royal Archers...Or, at least, it _would've_ been if any of this was real, and if it had ever actually happened, which apparently it didn't, and there was never any fruit, or trees even, so that makes me and my men innocent _too_! Or, we _would_ be, if we existed."

"Sam? Assuming you would like me to continue having a little brother? Stop doing that...Do you think she's got here yet _?"_

This time Sam _did_ glance back over his shoulder to Dean.

"Huh? _Who, where_?"

"Oh boy, did I _have_ to get lumbered with such a _dumb_ brother?"

Dean dropped his voice to a whisper.

I mean the " _W_ " word, _obviously_."

"What?...Wench? Will O' the Whisp? Water Sprite?"

"You think you're so funny."

"Wolf? Weasel? Wyvern?"

" _Yeah_ , I _get_ it. Thank you."

"Wiggly worm? Water Nymph? Wabbit?"

"One more, and I'm a single child...

-o-

The two guards on duty and stationed at the entrance doors to the palace were bored. Once all that night's guests had arrived, there had been little else of interest happen and so when they spotted a pair of shadowed figures approaching the doors from one side, they eagerly stood straighter while Pete, being the one nearest the figures, stepped out and challenged them, using the official call.

"Stand too if ye be foe!"

Although it was the proper protocol, Pete always felt stupid. Why would anyone who _was_ foe stand too, just because he said so? If they _did_ , they'd be admitting to _being_ foe. It'd be as bad as sneaking up to the palace while yelling _I'm foe me, I am._ And if they were _sly_ foe and kept on walking instead of standing too, he supposed he'd have to let them pass, on the grounds that they didn't stand too, so obviously they _weren't_ foe. Pete had a tenancy to think about that sort of thing a lot.

"It's me Pete. Sam... _ual_ , archer sergeant."

Pete grinned as the pair walked into the light cast by a line of burning braziers.

" _Ey up_ Sarg! That a new recruit with you then?"

"Yup. Fresh out of training, very promising he is too. We've been allocated to stick to Her Highness, the Princess from midnight. I'm assuming somebody let you lads know?"

The second guard had wandered over to join Pete. His face was familiar, Sam recalled the man's name being Bernard, or possibly Bayward. He saluted Sam.

"Sir, yes sir. We was told a couple of 'and picked men was bein' sent sir. They didn't say 'oo like. 'Er 'Ighness' still in yon banquetin' 'all. Thing's due to end before twelve, but you've still got a bit of a wait, sir."

-o-

Sam winked at Bernard/Bayward conspiringly.

"That gives me just enough time to take the fresher here below stairs, introduce to one or two of the lasses who'll give him extra rations; if you get my drift?"

Bernard/Bayward didn't get Sam's "drift" at all, but he wasn't about to admit it.

" _Oh_ , yessir. I likes a bit 'o _drift_ myself, so I do. Good stuff it is."

Pete buried his laughter beneath a "coughing fit" and waved Sam and Dean on. Sam turned around after a couple of yards.

"Are the minstrels playing for the greedy hoards tonight?"

"Earlier they was, but they've done and gone now."

"Alright. Thanks Pete and...Erm..."

"Tobias."

"Of _course_! Tobias."

-o-

Dean had never been inside the palace before, and he was astounded at the sheer opulence of the interior. Everything glistened, tapestries and original art works seemed to cover every wall, white marble contrasted with dark wood. Their feet made no sound as they walked, every bit of floor along their way being coated in soft, hand woven carpeting in rich hues. The wealth of the King and Queen showed in the fact that candles burned one in every six feet along every corridor, bathing the whole of the palace interior in their golden glow. Expensive looking, though to Dean's mind not always tasteful, ornaments, vases, figurines, sculptures, glassware and crystalware were openly displayed. The numerous types and styles of seating scattered throughout the palace corridors and hallways all looked comfortable, and so _very_ inviting.

"Sammy? Where are we heading?"

"There's an access door that gets us onto the stage in the Banqueting hall. We'll be able to check out the guests from there without being seen."

Dean gave his brother a sideways glance.

"Sammy? You _do_ understand that the whole point of being on a stage is to make certain that everyone _can_ see you?"

Sam faulted briefly, until he saw Dean wink.

"Very droll. You know full well we'll be behind the stage curtains, dumbo."

"Dwarf."

-o-

Brier Rose yawned, prettily of course, and put one elbow on the banqueting table then rested her perfect chin in the cup of her hand while her gaze lazily drifted around the faces of the dozens of people she didn't know but who for some reason had been invited to her pre-birthday dinner turned pre-betrothal banquet. She'd bet there wasn't _one_ of them who was under twenty five. _Actually,_ she decided, _most of them have probably already seen_ _ **thirty**_ _five come and go._ She yawned again, loudly this time.

"You are weary my to-be-betrothed."

Still with her chin in her hand, she shifted a touch to be able to see Prince Florimond who sat beside her above the salt.** She smiled. _See how we've only just met yet he already knows exactly how I'm feeling without me saying one single word? That only happens when you're in True Love with a person._

"Yes I am, a little."

"Would it help if I did something spontaneously romantic do you think?"

Brier Rose was at once delighted, curious, and nervous, not weary at all. _It's already working! He is truly amazing._

"It might. What _kind_ of something?"

 ****** _Above the salt_ (From medieval times) = The top table : The highest ranking people/the hosts. _Below the salt_ = Everybody else.

-o-

The unwelcome hand made it's third appearance on Delilah's thigh. Instead of politely shoving it away yet again, this time she mumbled a fast spell which magically adhered the back of the drunken Count "Cop-a-feel's" exploring hand to the underside of the banqueting table, much to the count's alcohol assisted confusion, leaving him struggling to free himself while she and everyone else's attention turned to the prince, who was stood and had a hand raised for silence.

"Your Majesties, Honoured guests. As you are aware, tomorrow is Princess Brier Rose's seventeenth birthday. It is also the happy day that she and I, _we_ , are to be formally betrothed to one another."

The Prince waited for the table thumping to end.

"Thank you. If I may? I would like now to share with you this small tribute, penned by myself, and with which I first declared my love to my sweet Brier Rose."

Delilah rolled her eyes, Brier Rose blushed scarlet, the King gulped down his mead and held the goblet out for a re-fill, the Queen placed her hand over her heart and gave a sigh that said _How utterly adorable_ , and Prince Florimond cleared his throat.

"It is my honour to accept you as my betrothed here in this beautiful ballroom.  
How beautiful the choir will sing their happy tune..."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16  
_ -oOo-

As the dreadful poem came to an end, virtually all those below the salt pounded the table enthusiastically with the palm of one hand, quite a few mead driven enthusiastic individuals took the risk of adding calls of _Bravo_ and _More_. The witch herself, however, sat wiping away tears that skittered down her face in accompaniment to her hysterical mirth. Three pairs of eyes honed in on Delilah.

-o-

Brier Rose glared crossly at the gaudily dressed older woman who had broken down into a fit of laughter part way through the prince's romantic gesture and, even now, continued to laugh. The princess decided she was _utterly_ determined to find out who this rude and ignorant guest was, and then be sure to _have a word with her,_ in person. From their concealed position behind the curtains hiding a small raised stage area, peering through a small gap in the heavy curtaining, Sam and Dean had also noticed the female guest whose back was towards them, and who appeared to have been overcome by helpless mirth.

"Well Dean? What do you make of _her_?"

"Truthfully? I actually think her reaction to that travesty of a poem makes her the only _honest_ person at the banquet!"

-o-

Bobby hadn't moved a muscle since initially passing out primarily due to the severity of the migraine, the high level of Dream Root in his system, the lack of restful sleep and his not eating enough had combined to cause. However, the risk of him sliding down further, into a potentially fatal drug induced coma had increased, with nobody around to watch him, to check and monitor his vitals, or to request the presence of the emergency services if needed. In the room next to Bobby's, the bags of fluid that were keeping Sam and Dean hydrated were both empty, and Bobby wasn't around to witness Dean become slightly restless, or to see the puzzled look appear on Sam's face.

-o-

The Prince bowed low to the appreciative audience, surprised and pleased with the reception his poetic talent was given by those present. He even noticed one sweet lady laughing with joy and abandonment, while at the same time being so moved and so overcome by the power of his wordsmithery, she was having to wipe tears from her eyes. Brier Rose shyly clasped his hand.

"My sweet Florimond, just think. Had you not come to my chambers and read that same poem outside my door, I would never have spent this evening in your warm company. It should be our own special poem, the poem which caused us to be together."

-o-

Delilah wiped the smeared wreckage of her eye liner from beneath her eyes with her sleeve end and decided it was time she went in order to avoid the inevitable crush when all her fellow diners moved as one to leave. Pushing her chair back, she spotted the Count lying asleep beneath the table, one arm raised, the hand still stuck to the table's underside. Making certain not to disturb his slumber, she lifted the spell from his hand before standing and turning to leave, and seeing the princess staring directly at her, the girl's expression looking vexed. Delilah wasn't the slightest bit worried, after all, it was _her_ who had conjured up the girl, the palace, in fact everything and virtually everyone around. They weren't real. Only the two Hunters' dream characterisation of themselves represented reality. Giving the princess a sly smirk, the witch bobbed a shallow curtsy before turning her back on Brier Rose and striding confidently out of the banqueting hall, intent on going to her room and exchanging her posh outfit for something a touch more practical, before she then put her talents into tracing the pair of Hunters.

-o-

Dean stepped back from the heavy stage curtaining once the tall female had left the banqueting hall.

"Did you see how Brier Rose looked at our poetry critic? And she's _still_ staring at the door the woman went out of. What do you think _that's_ all about?"

Dean could hear excitement in Sam's voice as he answered.

"Who knows? But there's this odd tickling sensation at the back of my neck, an' it's tellin' me...She's the one... _I'd_ say we've found ourselves a hag."

The older Hunter looked dubious.

"Because your neck tickled? Really? Well, I've got an itch on the end of my nose, what's _that_ tell you?"

Sam grinned.

"That it's about time you started poking it into other people's business."

-o-

Sam slapped Dean on the back.

"Come on...Let's divide up these scrolls, then I suggest we go take up our babysitting duties. I thought we could just tag along when the royal party makes their exit from the bun fight and introduce ourselves when somebody asks why we're hanging around. After that, you can leave me with the girl while you go snooping. You alright with that?...Great. So, what've we got here then? _Interesting_. This first spell, once it's loosed...Cast I mean, will cause the target to become mute. Alright, so, if she's a hag that nags I suppose it could be handy? What's next, let's see ... Spell of Reflection? Hold on...Ah! I _see_. _Oh,_ this' a good one Dean. Listen up...Cast this and for a period of time any spell the chosen target casts gets turned around and the target suffers the effect of the spell themselves. It doesn't say how long it lasts, but I like it; she could even end up doing our job for us! Next...Chameleon?...Oh nice. This' one for you Dean, listen. It effects the caster in such a way as to give them the ability, for a limited time, to blend into their surroundings so well, they become almost invisible. You'd think they'd specify how long for, wouldn't you? Anyway, as it's you doing the sneaky stuff first, I'd say _you_ need this one. And finally...Huh? _Oh_..."

" _Oh_ what? What does it do Sam?"

"No, it's good. More useful to me than you I would say. Let's see. Any harm the target tries to do, the target suffers the effect."

Dean looked confused.

"It sounds like another Spell of Reflection. Is it?"

"Basically, yes. Anyway, I'll keep this one."

Dean gave his brother a narrow eyed gaze of suspicion, and held out his hand.

"Give, little brother. Let me see that."

Sam tried to casually slot the scroll inside his jacket.

"It's like the other one... _Dean_!"

Sam was shocked at the speed of the other man's reflexes as Dean's hand shot forward and snatched the scroll off Sam before it was hidden from view. Turning his back to his brother, Dean blocked Sam's attempts to retrieve the spell scroll while he scanned through it. Rolling his eyes, Sam waited.

"So, _that's_ what you weren't saying. Thanks for this my brother, I'll keep it safe, don't you fret any."

" _Dean_!"

"Sammmyyyy. Big brother rules, live with it."

"You know, you were _way_ less bossy when we were just friends! Here, the Reflection spell. Now, let's head round to the hall's main doors and get to work. Then we can go home."

When there was no response from Dean, Sam frowned.

"What's wrong bossy boots? Something on your mind?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"What you said then, about us going home? That's not really how it will be, is it? You and me? We _are_ home; right here. It's the _other_ two that will wake up but, _us_? I assume we'll simply... _Disappear_...And I don't know how to feel about that...Except, I know that if we _don't_ stop the witch and save the princess, the us that we've been told is the _real_ us, will die. But then I thought, if we _do_ save the princess, we...The you and me that's here right now... _We'll_ kind of die instead. Won't we?"

" _Wow_."

"Sam? Do you think we'll remember any of this? Our lives here? This dream?"

For a while, Sam stared down at the two scrolls and the silken hex bag he held.

"I dunno."

Raising his head, he gave Dean a small smile.

"But I _do_ know, whatever happens, I want the chance to find out."

Dean gazed into his brother's eyes, saw the strength of Sam's determination, his hope; and gave a brief nod.

" _Alright then_."

-o-

The archer and the gardener arrived at the entrance to the banqueting hall in time to hear the Master of Ceremonies telling the guests inside to _All rise_ for the departure of the royal party. Positioning themselves outside the hall, one at either side of the doorway, they stood to attention as, preceded by the Master of the Royal Household, the royals themselves passed by. Smoothly, the brothers latched on at the behind the royal personages, keeping pace behind them, acting as though they were the official rear guard. Directly in front of Sam and Dean were Prince Florimond and Princess Brier Rose, Brier Rose graciously accepting the prince's offer of his arm. Ahead of the soon-to-be-betrotheds, were the King and Queen. The Queen glanced back to smile approvingly at the prince and her daughter, noticing the addition of two men from the palace garrison to their party. As they progressed, the Queen looked back at Sam and Dean a further twice before nudging her husband with her elbow, and then speaking loudly and clearly enough to ensure the two men in uniform would hear her.

"Darling? It seems that we are being rather closely followed by two uniformed men. I _do_ hope you haven't invited them to join us for a nightcap? You _must_ try to remember my sweet, you don't _really_ have any friends. Too much mead just makes you _think_ you have, now doesn't it dear?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17  
_ -oOo-

Brier Rose was attempting to have a teen strop in a mature manner.

"Daddy! It's not _fai..._ I mean...I _utterly_ don't want two creeps following me around all over the place every second of the day. What about my... _One's_ privacy? And anyway, it's _you_ who's all scaredy over some dumb old crone nobody's seen in years, so _you_ have them following _you_ everywhere, see how _you_...Um...Because you're the King, and so, and so...Oh, that's it!...And so you're _much_ more important than _me,_ daddy dear."

On the outside the King was a picture of patience and placidity, his voice soft and calm, quite at odds with the image in his head of himself wrapping yards of muslin over his daughter's mouth, around the back of her head and over her mouth again, repeatedly, _many times_ , finally shutting up the whining, whinging, self centred, moping, sulking, sour faced, and really, _totally_ predictable _thing_ that someone had cruelly swapped for his beloved daughter on the same day that she woke up having become thirteen years old.

"Ah but, _my sweet_. It's not _me_ that's at risk from a little prick, is it?" _And I'm not insinuating anything about your poetic failure of a soon-to-be-betrothed...Honest._

The princess gave a haughty sniff.

"No. You _are_ a little prick... _ly,_ about a stupid curse. And anyway, I've utterly got my very own prince to protect me. Haven't I, my sweet Florimond?"

The prince looked surprised at being roped into the argument between his host, the King and his promised bride, the Princess. He didn't want to take sides, and neither was he too sure about being the princess' champion.

"Sorry? Well, I...erm...a _witch_ was it? With magic? Well now...erm?... _Oh_! I'd quite forgot! My darling little Brier Rose, you won't know this but, I came with a man. _You_ can have _him_ to protect you, if you like?"

-o-

The princess crossed her arms.

"Oh goody, _three_ pricks! I mean, _prickly people."_

She had stamped one perfectly formed foot before she could stop herself. The Queen took another sip of her vintage port. Still using his _I'm so calm_ voice, the King gave a his daughter a first warning.

"No more _accidental_ slips of that tongue of yours please, young lady!"

Maturity went into hiding and Brier Rose's hands went to her hips.

"Else what? S'not fair, it's s'not. All my _none_ friends will utterly _die_ laughing at me and my _two_ babysitters. _One_ would be bad enough. I hope you know that you're all _meanies,_ _all_ of you. I'm going to tell those soldier men myself to get lost...So **_there_**!...Oh. _And another thing_ , you're all _horrible_! And I wish I'd never been born, and I'm not going to my _stupid_ birthday ball and I'm going to throw my utterly _horrendous_ ballgown in the lake...And _no way_ I am getting betrothed! _...Double_ so there!"

Brier Rose determinedly pit-patted to the comfort room exit, slamming the door closed after exiting in a swoosh of pink. The three remaining royals gazed at one another.

-o-

Less then five seconds after storming out, Brier Rose was back, walking sedately over to her parents and Florimond, her pert nose stuck high in the air.

"I have decided to retain my escorts...I may yet require their protection. And, simply because of how much it's all cost you both, I, out of kindness, _shall_ be attending my ball."

-o-

Outside the room, on the other side of the door, Sam and Dean were staring at one another in confusion. The door had suddenly been jerked open, and the princess had come scurrying through it, slamming it closed after herself, then turning, eyes blazing, to address Sam and Dean.

"I order _both_ of you to...? _Oh_...hello...Um...I like your teeny cape. I bet it would fit one of my dollies perfectly. Did it shrink? Are you a soldier now? Will you still be taking your shirt...Um, I mean...How are the roses? Is this your friend? 're sooooo tall! And _really_ cute! _Oops_! Your cape _._ _Your_ cape's really cute as well. It's teeny. Like his... _Bye_."

And just like that, she was gone again, straight back into the comfort room, the door closing after her. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Princesses! They're an odd bunch, don't you think?"

-o-

Delilah floated serene and unseen through the palace grounds, maintaining a comfortable altitude of seven feet above ground level, easily adjusting how high or low she flew to accommodate the terrain, invisible or un-remembered by the men she drifted over and around, checking their faces in her search for the two Hunters. When, after a while, she hadn't had any luck, she gave her projection a mental tug, bringing that portion of her essence swooping back to her room where her body lie in a self induced hypnotic state. As soon as the essence flowed back into her, her half closed eyes snapped fully open.

"I could spend all night searching that way. Think Delilah...Haven't got anything of them, so can't send out a familiar to track them down. I really must start taking something from my players for when situations like this one crop up. Can't skry a dreamscape...Black light search? Hmmm, not sure it would react to non corporeal bodies...Ah! Swarm seeking! Not ideal, but it might just do it."

The witch stood up and yanked the covers off her bed, quickly stripping off the bottom sheet and folding it neatly before hurriedly exiting her room with the sheet tucked under one arm.

From somewhere further in the palace, a clock solemnly sounded off the first of twelve strikes in a warm baritone _bonnng_.

-o-

The brothers each counted off the chimes in silence until the resonance of the final _bonnng_ faded away. Dean touched the scrolls tucked through his belt, seeking some reassurance.

"Midnight...This' it then...Sam?...You _seriously_ think the Keeper has been telling us the truth? This isn't some big ridiculous joke he's set up for us?"

Sam gave a small smile.

"Why would someone we've never met before do that to us Dean? I believe what I've witnessed; and I've seen Bobby disappear, I've seen his chambers turn into deserted rooms around me. Yes. I believe what he's told us. There's things about it that are just... _Right._ Like our real names, like the fact that you're clearly used to fighting...Like _you_ being my _brother_...That, more than anything, that _has_ to be the truth."

-o-

Dean held his brother's gaze for a moment, then finally returned Sam's smile.

"Right. Then it's time I started hunting down a spinning wheel, while you stick close to our princess. Don't forget to check her chambers before you let her go in there, and you might try asking _her_ who that tall woman was, and what room she's in. How about I give it a couple of hours, then find my way to the princess' chambers and check back with you?"

Sam's smile broadened at Dean's efficient tone and he performed a salute.

"Yessir. Very good sir. Two hours it is sir."

Dean grinned.

"Dumbo."

"Dwarf."

Sam watched as his brother turned and began to walk away.

"Dean?"

Dean stopped and turned.

"Be careful, alright?"

Dean nodded.

"Always...You be good."

"Never."

-o-

"Evenin' ma'am. Off on a nice midnight stroll are we? Not much to see in the dark there isn't. Planning on having yourself a night time picnic are you?"

Pete nodded his head towards the white cloth under the tall woman's arm. The witch batted her eyelashes and giggled coyly, beckoning Pete closer and making certain to wobble a little where she stood.

"Juss clearin' my 'ead thankshoo. Think I'm a bit tipshy? S'all that mead."

Delilah's act might have worked, if Pete wasn't still curious about the cloth she was carrying. It was surprising how many visitors to the palace tried to sneak "souvenirs" with them when they left.

"That so? Well ma'am. Going outside won't help then, fresh air's only gonna make you feel worse. You'll be better trotting off back to your room. Tobias here will escort you."

-o-

Delilah had to think quickly. Bowing her head, she held her breath long enough to flush her skin red and fidgeted nervously with a corner of the sheet, then glanced around before speaking in a shy voice.

"Please sir, don't think bad of me but...The truth is I have a, um, _rendezvous_...With a friend...A...A _gentleman_ friend; we met at the banquet and... _Well_..."

She left her sentence hanging. Pete smiled and winked towards the folded cloth knowingly.

"I _seeee_. Right you are ma'am! Best hurry on along then. If you're certain your friend _is_ a gentleman?"

"Oh, he _is_."

The witch moved to whisper into Pete's ear.

"Though not _too_ much of a gentleman, I'm hoping!"

Pete chuckled.

"I reckon yon chap's got his hands full with _you_ my lass. Go on now. Hop it."

Of course, Pete would not be able to recall having had a conversation with a woman off to a rendezvous, both him and Tobias forgetting they had ever seen Delilah as, with a wave and a nod, she hurried out of the palace.

-o-

Sam stood to attention as the door to the comfort room opened and the Master of the Royal Household addressed him.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Brier Rose is ready to retire. You are required to escort her to her chambers...Oh! Wasn't there two of you? Where's the other chap?"

"He's attending to other duties, sir, but he will be returning later. Until then, I will tend to the princess alone. Rest assured that I, Sergeant of the Royal Archers, will ensure her safety sir."

"Right. Well. Come along then."

-o-

The man turned smartly and strode back into the comfort room, clearly expecting Sam to follow him. With a tug of his shirt bottom and a jiggle of his sword hilt, Sam marched into the room, made directly to where the princess sat in a high backed armchair, came to a halt alongside the chair, and stood to attention, all under the watchful gazes of the royal ensemble. The King maintained a non-committal expression, while the Queen's eyes opened wide, her pupils instantly enlarging. Brier- Rose smiled prettily to herself, and Prince Florimond's eyebrows headed for the ceiling in amazement as he took in Sam's overall height, paying particular attention to the length of Sam's legs dressed in the close fitting white hose.

" _Jangling Jiminy_! Look how tall he is! And the _muscles_! My darling Brier Rose, it seems I need not fear for your safety, not whilst you have a giant to watch over you! Pray, what is your name my giant friend?"

Sam answer was given in a voice full of pride.

"Your Highness, my name is _Sam Winchester_ , and I am at your service."

-o-

Sam pretended not to notice the Queen lick her lips, or the King giving her a sharp kick to the ankle.

"You'll be the Keeper's man. I was under the impression there would be two of you? Tall though you are boy, I am still only counting one of you?"

Sam bowed his head to the King.

"Your Majesty. I am accompanied by my brother who is, as we speak, searching for anything... _Untoward..._ Within the palace."

"Ah. I understand. Very good. So daughter, off you go to bed; you have a busy day tomorrow. I wish you a good night and urge you to try to get some sleep, however excited you may feel child."

Standing, Brier Rose bobbed a short curtsey to her parents, and a much deeper one to Florimond.

"I will do my best papa. Goodnight mother. Goodnight...Sweet prince."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	18. Chapter 18

A.N. **URGENT : If anyone reading this has contact with SPN family member and fic reader  
** **janiekm,** please PM me, **seriously** worried about her, just want to know she's ok. Thanks.  
 _Chapter 18  
_ -oOo-

Dean couldn't help feeling like he was doing something wrong and would be in trouble if anyone saw him walking the palace's quiet hallways, he expected any minute to hear an authoritative voice shouting out " _You there_! Stand too and state your business." Having to remind himself that, given the uniform he was wearing, it was actually _his_ job to do the shouting if necessary. He was currently retracing the route from the comfort room to the banqueting hall and back to the main entrance to the palace. One final turn brought him onto the wide corridor adjoining the spacious entrance hall where he hoped to still find Pete and Tobias. Increasing his pace, he spotted Tobias first, dutifully slow marching back and forth in front of the palace doors. He gave the soldier a quick wave, Tobias came to a standstill and waved in response, waiting for Dean to reach him.

"Alright there fresher? 'Ave you gone an' lost the Sergeant?"

-o-

Lighting her way with a softly glowing blue orb hovering at her shoulder, Delilah was hurrying towards a cluster of unlit buildings that bordered three sides of a cobbled yard. Drawing closer, the scents carried on the night air confirmed her hopes, she was heading to the stable area.

-o-

Standing in the cobbled yard, Delilah gazed at the buildings, she had no interest in the actual one story stable block. Her eye was drawn to a large old barn type of structure, For a while she didn't move as she stared up at the barn roof. After a while, she smiled.

"Perfect."

Positioning herself a few yards away from one side of the old building, she unfolded her sheet and, with a flick of her wrist, spread it neatly on the ground. Then she sat herself down alongside it, and waited.

-o-

Twirling a looped piece of leather thong from which hung Tobias' master key for the palace, handed over at Pete's insistence, Dean followed the directions, also given by Tobias, to the sewing rooms. Too logical though it probably was, it would typically be the most likely place to find a spinning wheel. His route took him past another guard station at the junction of two hallways. There the guard, wearing the same uniform as Dean, was sat on a stool at the intersection of the hallways, engrossed in writing something on a swatch of parchment roughly bound together by string. Dean gave a polite cough as he approached and, after glancing his way, the guard leapt to attention, already saluting, eyes straight forward.

"Evening friend. Everything been quiet tonight?"

The guard remained standing stiffly to attention.

"Sir yes sir. Just completing my duty entry sir. Nothing to report since the guests from the banquet went back to their rooms sir."

-o-

For some reason, the man spoke to Dean as though he was an officer, Dean went along with it.

"Nobody give you any trouble then?"

"No trouble sir, although one gentleman complained his wrist and hand were aching. I advised him to put it in cold water. It's all recorded sir."

"Good job. Um...You didn't happen to notice a tall woman, dark grey hair, good looking, dressed in fuchsia and lime green by any chance?"

The guard frowned, looking puzzled.

"Can't rightly say sir. This fuchsia. Is _that_ a colour, or a sort of style then?"

"Colour, like a strong, deep pink."

"I see sir. No. Nobody like that comes to mind sir. Sorry sir.

"Not to worry. Have a good duty. As you were."

-o-

Something small and black dropped down onto Delilah's sheet and the witch pounced, scooping it up and holding it trapped between the palms of her hands.

"Come to mama little one. I've got a job for you and your friends."

Opening her hands, she shush shushed the tiny bat, using her thumb to gently stroke it's soft fur.

"You and your friends are going to help me find someone my sweet, and in return, I will bring honey for you all. Won't that be lovely?"

The bat nestled quietly in the palm of the witch's hand, making no attempt to escape.

-o-

"I'm already seventeen you know because it's past midnight, so it's my birthday now."

Sam's eyes didn't stop scanning for danger as he walked along at the princess' right side, in case he needed to draw his sword.

"In that case, happy birthday Your Highness."

"You can call me mistress, or just Princess, if you want...What sort of _untoward_ is my gardener searching for? Will he be joining you? When did he join the garrison? Are you and he friends? Do you both have True Loves of your own? Is it alright if I call you Sam? Do you plan to stand outside my chambers _all_ night? Should I have one of my ladies prepare a snack for you?"

-o-

One eyebrow hitched in amusement, Sam looked down at the petit girl at his side.

"Hobb's Goblins! That's a whole lot of questions in one breath!... _Mistress._ Let me see. Yes please mistress, call me Sam. Yes Dean, your gardener, is my friend, he's also my brother...

" _Really_?"

...and he's only just joined the garrison. Yes he will be joining me shortly. And yes, a snack would be most welcome Mistress. No, sadly neither one of us has a True Love...

" _Really_?"

...not yet anyway. Yes I will be guarding you all night, but I will be standing right outside your bed chamber so I can hear if you need me...And Dean is out looking for anyone, or _anything_ , that might be a threat to you, princess."

"Right outside my bed chamber! _Really_?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Oh."

Brier Rose bowed her head, not wanting Sam to see the flushing of her cheeks at the thought of the green eyed gardener possibly being stood just the other side of her bedroom door.

-o-

The sewing rooms were located through a wide door which led to an equally wide flight of shallow stone steps going down to the lower ground floor of the palace where most of the "working" areas were sited, out of view from the upper classes. Down here the corridors were not so well lit as in the palace's main living and entertaining areas; and there were no luxuriant carpets or rugs covering the floors. Here the floors were all either stone flagged, or bare wood. Chairs down here were straight forward, wooden and functional, gone was the rich, plush upholstering of the upstairs. Everything down here was robust and workman like, designed to perform it's task, with no unnecessary ornamentation. Dean was much more at ease down here. Because of the banquet and the following day's party, Dean could hear the sound of activity drifting up the corridor from the kitchens where a small team of staff were busily pot washing, re-polishing the silverware, taking out the waste and all carrying out all the other numerous tasks that had to be completed prior to any of them retiring to their various rooms and dormitories. Dean turned onto another dimly lit corridor before reaching the kitchens, though he found simply hearing the sounds of other people at work down here quite comforting.

-o-

Reaching the sewing rooms, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing nothing, the space being in almost complete darkness except where the glow of light from the corridor pooled within the doorway. Back tracking to the nearest wall hanging candle sconce with a reasonable sized candle burning within it, Dean lifted it down and returned to the sewing rooms, stepping inside. The first couple of times the light moved over a dressmaker's dummy it startled Dean; but he soon relaxed enough to focus on his search for a spinning wheel, methodically checking the main workroom space before moving onto other rooms, including the cutting room, the dying room, the lace maker's area etc. Finding nothing, he moved on to the walk in cupboards, which were largely a selection of storage areas, the last and biggest of which contained floor to ceiling shelves laden with bales of fabrics in a multitude of types, colours, designs and purpose. Dean ran a hand over two of the numerous bales of sumptuous silken velvets, his hand pausing when he became aware that the temperature had suddenly dropped, so much so that he could see his own breath.

" _Don't touch! Don't touch_! Get your _filthy_ hands off them, _they're_ _ **miiiinnne**_!"

-o-

Dean took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest when the shimmering, ghostly figure of a wild eyed woman, her gnarled hands raised, fingers curled into claws, floated swiftly towards him, screeching furiously at him. Dean reacted on pure survival instinct, swiping at the spirit with the candle sconce. Two things happened almost simultaneously. First the ghostly woman dissipated as the iron sconce whipped through her and, a micro-second after, the candle flame blew out, plunging Dean into darkness. It didn't matter, Dean wasn't about to let mere darkness stop him from running, neither was colliding into work benches, knocking over a stool, or going one on one with a dressmaker's dummy. Bursting out into the corridor, Dean slammed the sewing rooms door closed, fumbling with the key to lock it, before sagging against the corridor wall, still clutching the sconce. The palace clock struck one a.m., Dean glanced at the sewing room door, reassuring himself it was still closed.

"That was _scary_!"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx - _Don't forget to PM me if you know janiekm. Thank you._


	19. Chapter 19

For **janiekm.** _So_ happy you're recovering. YES, SHE'S OK! :D :D  
and for **LW** , for getting in touch. THANK YOU SO MUCH!  
 _Chapter 19  
_ -oOo-

The smell of stale beer and old cigarette smoke was the first thing to wheedle it's way into Bobby's slowly returning consciousness, closely followed by an irritating tickle up one nostril whenever he breathed in. His hand moved to rub his nose, trailing over the short, scratchy twist of the carpet pile, pausing when the sensation sank in, creating confusion. Bobby attempted to conjure up a mental image of where he was, trying to put his world right before he opened his eyes and confronted it, but he couldn't get a grip on the fleeting images his mind produced, there was only one way he was going to solve the question as to where he was, and what the Hell he was doing there? The pounding beat already throbbing inside his head didn't bode well for opening his eyes. Steeling himself, Bobby slowly opened them anyway, surprised to find darkness all around him, save for the glow of some orange light source making it's way through the narrow gap between a pair of curtains hung at the place's solitary window. The shape of a single wardrobe, a tub chair and a cabinet which stood alongside the shape of a bed that Bobby realised he wasn't lying on, all shouted one thing. _Motel._ And all the fractured images in his memory suddenly clicked together to form a whole.

" _Balls_!"

-o-

Hidden in the shadows at the back of the barn which was used, on the ground floor, to house the Royal coaches along with large items of farming equipment, the witch sat on the straw covered floor with her back to the wooden wall. Her eyelids were open, but only the whites of her eyes were showing. The images the witch was seeing bore no relation to anything within the vicinity of her physical form. Instead, what she saw had, at first, appeared to be little more than a chaos of hundreds of fast moving lines, streaks of colour that constantly and swiftly changed, hurtling through cool blues to iridescent greens, deep orange and hot scarlets, set against a black background within which flashed intermittent explosions of warming yellows. As she grew accustomed to this new way of seeing, Delilah was able to read and recognise shapes and patterns as they were formed by the ever changing colours within the lines.

-o-

The large number of splashes of red all around her she soon realised were the warm bodies of the others in the swarm of bats she was riding amongst, each one called to her aid by the bat who's eyes she was currently using. They were all fluttering alongside one of the palace outer walls, each window they passed with any light shining through it showing as another fast burst of warm yellow breaking up the black. Where small sections of lines made a red pattern showing a rendition of the bat's bodies, the same lines then bled through orange onto green, creating a moving coloured shadow that was their wings beating, the greens being the cooler tips of their wings, the orange being where the wings joined the bodies, and so being warmer. The witch looked around, fascinated to see how inanimate objects such as the palace walls didn't show at all, unless she flew too close then, if not radiating warmth enough to trigger the greens to scarlets, the obstacle in her way would become a blue shadow, growing brighter as she got closer, an increasing warning to change direction, or suffer a collision with the object.

-o-

In twos and threes, the splashes of red snuffed out as the swarm broke up and separated down into pairs or threesomes, each heading off to seek a way into the palace in order to begin their search. The chimneys leading down into different rooms proved a popular choice, as did open windows and under the eves where small cracks and holes let some bats into rooms on the upper floor, as well as into the roof space. There was a constant stream of chittering as every member of the swarm kept up communications with the rest, relaying back and forth what they were seeing. The noise made little sense to Delilah, but the young bat she looked out of knew what it's temporary passenger was seeking and carried an image in it's mind, created by from memory by Delilah. That image had also been shared and, should any swarm member spot a potential match, the location went around at the speed of sound and Delilah's bat would head in that direction, allowing Delilah to check out each sighting, judging whether it was the humans she sought. Her shared journey was one constant riotous combination of frenzied movement accompanied by frenetic colours and a never ending stream of sound. Delilah felt everything her bat felt, every boisterous, turbulent, energised and thrilling moment. A bat hunting on a clear night, at one with the rest of it's swarming family, was a bat that felt like a ball of joy. In some ways, when her ride suddenly changed direction in response to the hail from three of it's siblings, the witch sort of hoped it turned out to be a false alarm.

-o-

Bobby was sensible enough not to try leaping to his feet too quickly and risking passing out again, despite the desperate want to get to his boys. Pushing himself up to a seated position, he checked his watch while waiting for the drummer in his head to start beating a slower rhythm, estimating that he had been out for roughly four hours. His thoughts went to the dream time Sam and Dean, their race to find and stop the witch had already begun while he laid unconscious. Bobby moved again, until he was sat on the edge of his bed, eyes closed, waiting for a bout of dizziness to pass and his personal drummer to again pull back from his maniacal tirade to a more sedate pounding. As frustrating though it was, Bobby knew there was no way he could risk a further dose of Dream Root during the next twenty four hours; Sampson and Deannick would have to succeed or fail on their own. All Bobby could do was keep watch over his charges in the next room, hoping and praying he would get to see them both wake up, before the time that they had ran out. Dreading the possibility that one or both of them might suddenly stop breathing, should either Deannick or Sampson meet their end during their quest.

-o-

Bobby carefully stood upright, taking the time he needed for the room to stop spinning. As soon as he felt able, he headed straight into the next bedroom, a sigh of relief escaping him when he saw both the brothers still breathing. Moving slowly, he set about his carrying out his self imposed care duties, starting with replacing their empty drip bags.

-o-

Holding the door open for the princess, Lady Garritass very nearly shut it again in Sam's face, not realising at first that there was somebody behind the princess however, Sam's booted foot was faster than the chief Lady-in-Waiting.

"Whoops! I didn't see you there soldier...Some how. _Good garden manure_ , you _are_ a big one, aren't you?"

Brier Rose giggled.

"Lady Garritass, Sam. Sam, Lady Garritass. Sam's one of my very own personal guards, aren't you Sam? _And_...He's the gardener's brother! Aren't you Sam? _And_ , the gardener's name is Dean. Isn't it Sam? _And,_ guess who my other very own personal guard is? It's _Dean_! Isn't it Sam?"

The Lady-in-waiting looked to the closed door in horror.

"I've not shut him out there, have I?"

Sam smiled reassuringly at the embarrassed woman.

"No my Lady. He will be along in a short while."

"Sam wants a snack and I've got to tell you all about this really rude horrible old woman at the banquet and do you realise I'm already seventeen now and did you know mama and pops are both utterly deathly worried I might prick myself you know like in that stupid old prophecy but my Prince has a man and he says I can have him if I want but I don't want so he can keep his man to himself 'cos I've already got my very own Sam and Dean. ... _Haven't_ I Sam?"

Sam wondered firstly, just how long could the girl go on one breath? And secondly, how long it would be until the princess finally departed to her bed chamber?

-o-

Opening another couple of doors along the corridor had not revealed any spinning wheel or similar, but it _had_ highlighted to Dean the unlikelihood of him managing to check every single one of the rooms and other places throughout the palace, even with however much over twenty two hours left to go. Wandering along the rest of the corridor, he started to think whereabouts he himself might put a spinning wheel so that it was unlikely to be accidentally found by anybody but the person it was intended for? Head down, deep in thought, he didn't notice three tiny bats hanging quietly from the final beam crossing the width of the ceiling on that corridor, just before it intersected in a "T" junction with another, wider, hallway.

-o-

 _The dungeons? Has to be a possibility. There's nobody ever casually wanders down to those places for fun, and I can't remember when there was last a prisoner being held at the palace. Last time it was used was for an All Hallows Eve party the Queen hosted._

The thought of checking the dungeons alone brought his recent crazy ghost lady encounter to mind, Dean shivered.

 _"_ _Think I'll leave the dungeons till Sam can go with me, we'll search faster with two...Huh...Who am I kidding? Face it Deano, you're too scared to search the dungeons alone. Where else might I put a spinning wheel? Up in one of the towers?_ _ **Flora and fauna!**_ _What?..._ _ **Oh boy**_ _! You dumb coward Dean, no need to poop these lovely shiny white hose, it's only a teeny tiny bat!..."_ Scat bat; stop flapping around my face will you? Go find your way back outside, dumb animal. You needn't think _I'm_ going to show you the way, you shouldn't have got yourself stuck down here in the first place! _Shoo_ , go on, _shooo_ bat, anywhere except fluttering around _me!_ I'm **_not "_** Big Bat", you hear me?"

Almost as though it understood him, Dean watched as the bat flew away, noticing three more bats appear, moving swiftly in flight to join up with the first..

"Must've got in through the kitchens... _Feathers!_...Oh, it's just the clock, gotta get a hold on myself and stop being so jumpy!"

More distant than previously, there was the unmistakable sound of two deep voiced _bongs_

 _Already? It's two in the morning already? Ok, get your bearings, need to find a guard to tell me the way to the princess' chambers. Better move fast before Sam gets jumpy as well and has some sort of manly hissy fit!_

-o-

Delilah's eyelids closed. When they opened again, her eyes were back to their normal appearance. For a brief period, as her gaze drifted, the witch was still seeing things as patterns within lines, gradually the lines began to fade from her vision, until she was finally seeing things as a human again. With her experience still so fresh, the world around her was mournfully still and quiet in comparison to the intoxicating, turbo charged world that the bats inhabited. While she waited for the last of the rush to dissipate, she idly wondered what it would be like to experience the world through the eyes of a bee? Shoving the thought away and bringing her focus back to the reason for using the swarm spell, she cautiously stood up. Pleased to feel no ill effects, she brushed the straw off herself and took a deep breath.

" _Right_ Hunter. Time we met up again I think."

Folding up the bed sheet, she walked quickly back towards the palace.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20  
_ -oOo-

Dean grimaced when he saw a guard some way ahead of him. The man was leaning against a wall with a finger shoved up one nostril, undergoing a thorough cave excavation. Dean's not so polite cough as he drew closer startled the man, driving his finger even further up his nostril, making him yelp out loud in pain while his eyes instantly began to water. Flustered, the man hurriedly stood to attention and saluted, unfortunately with the same hand he had been using in his caving exploits. Dean's face scowled with an even more pronounced grimace when he saw the soldier had unwittingly left the evidence of his tunnelling streaked over the rim of his helmet. Dean just couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with the man.

"Carry on soldier, as you were." _Only, please, wait till my back's turned._

Once Dean was passed, the guard sagged back against the wall again, this time with relief at having not been put on a charge for slovenly conduct whilst on duty.

-o-

Dean headed up to the next floor at the first flight of stairs he came to, having assumed it would be highly unlikely that the princess' private chambers would be situated on the ground floor. He soon knew he had done the right thing when, looking down the broad hallway, he saw immediately that the night guards on this floor were posted at more frequent intervals, all within sight and sound of at least one of their comrades and of the first two Dean spotted, both were stood to attention and already alert to his arrival on their floor. Even though Dean was in uniform, as he drew closer to the first guard, the man took two strides forward from his post and efficiently blocked Dean's path, looking him over and very politely enquiring what business Dean had there? On answering, The guard's nod when Dean answered suggested that word had been left to look out for him. The man cheerfully pointed Dean in the direction of a second flight of wide stairs sweeping upwards and explained the route to Brier Rose's quarters.

-o-

Delilah entered the palace via the wide open door leading directly into the main kitchen, it being the route she had seen through the bat's eyes and which she knew would lead her to where the bats had found one of the Hunters. As she wandered casually into the kitchen, the staff in there all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at her. Drawing to a halt she pasted on an innocent smile and gazed back at her audience.

" _Whoops_! Been outside for some air. Spotted this door open and I thought I'd found a sneaky way in to save my poor legs from walking all the way back to the front. Not so sneaky huh? Although, while I'm here, _thank you_ for the banquet. The food was _outstanding,_ and whoever designed the menu really knows how to mix their flavours from one course to the next. And if I'm not mistaken, fresh cut herbs? _So_ much better to enhance the food than the dried out stuff. That's the trick though, isn't it? Just enough to enhance the flavours, not to out do them. A _triumph_. Well done everyone. Goodnight."

As she was speaking, Delilah had been casually moving further into and through the kitchen, until she made it to the doorway leading onto the kitchen corridor. Her final _Goodnight_ was delivered with a nod and a wave as she exited. The kitchen staff picked up where they had left off, with not a mention of some tall woman just having cut through the main kitchen.

-o-

Unerringly the witch traced the route to the point at which she had seen the Hunter, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into an undignified and potentially suspicion arousing jog. As she had expected, the Hunter had moved on. Closing her eyes, she conjured up the image of him standing on the same spot she now stood on, and watched in which direction the opaque image turned.

"I'm on your trail now Hunter, I've got you imprinted in my mind and I'm closing in on you my boy."

She slowed her pace down to stroll when she spotted a guard standing to attention ahead. Delilah glanced at the guard and smirked as she passed him. Without stopping she shouted back to the man.

"You've got a booger on your hat soldier. Thought you'd want to know."

-o-

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, the palace can be a difficult place to find your way around. Even I still get confused sometimes over which turn to take...Although I suppose that could just be old age. My point is, he's not _that_ long overdue, you should give him a little more time."

Sam stopped in mid pace.

"You are right my Lady. I _am_ possibly being a little hasty in my worry for my brother's safety. After all, he hasn't been inside the palace before; he's _bound_ to take some wrong turns and have to go back on himself."

The door to the princess' bedroom opened and a sleepy eyed, tousled haired head popped out.

"Is he here yet?"

-o-

Lady Garritass was on her feet instantly, scurrying to usher her charge back into bed.

"It's no concern of yours, little one. You'll see him in the morning, right now you need to get some sleep."

"But it _is_ morning. I'm seventeen."

"Yes my sweet, you are. But it's not really morning until you've gone to sleep and woken up in daylight, now back to bed with you Mistress."

"But...

"But me no buts, come along. I'll tuck you in again."

-o-

Sam was left alone as the bedroom door closed behind Lady Garritass. Wandering over to a mullioned window, he stared out at the dark. At first the idea of he and Dean both being soldiers and taking on a dangerous quest together had sounded like fun, that was before he discovered the awful sense of dread and worry his brother going off alone could arouse in him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be the other Sam? Always afraid, not of the things they apparently hunted, but of the possibility his brother would be injured, or worse. Was he over-protective, always watching out for Dean, doing his utmost to keep him safe? Or, maybe, back in the "real" world, it was the other way around? Sam doubted it. Dean might be older, but he was smaller, shyer, quieter, more reserved, and not so much the warrior. Sam was certain that wouldn't change, whatever world they were in.

-o-

Climbing the stairs to the first floor Delilah didn't hesitate, she made directly for the next set of stairs, giving a brief nod to each guard she passed by, quickening her step, knowing that she was getting close.

-o-

Dean turned on to a sumptuously decorated and furnished hallway, knowing instantly that he had found his destination, not so much by the rest of the decor, but by the framed pictures lining the walls on both sides of the hallway, every one an original, every one drawn or painted by the princess herself. Dean smiled broadly. Looking at each of the pictures, it was like tracing the princess' life. From the first random sploshes in a single colour by her two year old hand, through the out of proportion stick people with their huge ears, triangular bodies, green hair and the big smiles drawn out side the uneven circle of their faces that the five year old little girl had produced, to age seven when she had clearly developed a love for horses, even if the early ones _did_ have only three legs and, in one case, a trunk. Delighted, Dean walked slowly along the hallway, watching Brier Rose grow up, seeing her start to develop and mature into quite a good artist. One of her more recent portraits caught his attention and he stopped to gaze at it, curious as to why there was a vaguely familiar look about the man in the painting.

"Cooeeee! Could you possibly help out an old _ish_ lady, kind sir?"

Turning, the smile died on Dean's face when he saw who it was that had called out to him for his help.

-oOo-  
 _Had_ to end the chapter on that line, you _know_ you would've done the same :)  
Chick xxxx


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21  
_ -oOo-

While Dean's smile faded, Delilah began to smirk and casually walk towards him.

"Well. Look at you. All dressed up like a toy soldier. Where's the other one?"

Dean stayed silent, his hand moving to his sword. The witch gave the door a couple of yards behind Dean a glance, then looked back at him.

"In there, is he?"

Dean considered the two scrolls at his belt, one was a little pointless in this situation, the other, he was reluctant to risk wasting, afraid the witch might destroy it before he had time to finish reading it. Unless she came within range, he wasn't certain he could get to her and put an end to her with the sword before she uttered the words to a spell. A further issue occurred to Dean, one neither he nor Sam had previously considered...He was a gardener. His memories did not include ever having _killed_ anyone before. Neither he nor Sam had given that any thought. Dean resorted to using the only alternative weapon he had. Feigned ignorance.

"I'm sorry, should I know you my Lady? Have we met previously? Maybe at the tavern? Or are you possibly mistaking me for someone else?"

Delilah drew to a halt, carefully out of sword range, as she gave herself a mental slap and turned her smirk to a smile. _Idiot! This dream time version of the Hunter has never seen you before, and yet here_ _ **you**_ _are, damn near_ _ **announcing**_ _yourself to him instead of making use of your opportunity!_

"Oh dear. You don't recognise me? Yes, I've seen you and your friend at the tavern. You always seem to be together, so I assumed he is here with you?"

Dean surprised himself at how easily he slipped into lying and, as he spoke, he stepped backwards, positioning himself in front of the door to the princess' chambers, standing to attention in the manner of most of the guards, _accidentally_ knocking once against the bottom of the door with the heel of his boot, and then raising his voice somewhat to answer the hag.

"No ma'am. My friend is not on this night's roster...Beg pardon ma'am, you asked for help? I will do my best however, I am not at liberty to leave this post."

-o-

Sam turned away from the window, sure he had heard muffled voices outside the door. He walked over to it as Lady Garritass came out of the princess' bedroom, Sam signalled her to stay silent. He put his ear to the door at the same moment as something knocked against the door bottom, and he heard his brother's voice mention him. Taking Dean's statement as a warning, he made no immediate move to open the door. A female voice answered Dean.

"Oh, don't worry sir. I remember now where I should have turned off. I had better leave you to your duties. My apologies for interrupting you good sir. I see you are guarding our sweet princess?"

There was no reply from Dean.

"Well. I wish you good night sir."

"And good night to you also my Lady."

Still Sam waited, trusting Dean to knock once the female had departed.

-o-

Now waiting impatiently, Sam began a slow, whispered count to one hundred, while Lady Garritass, herself now worried, came to stand alongside him. Hearing Sam counting, she pulled back her loosely tied up hair and put her ear against the door too. Eventually reaching two hundred, Sam straightened up and glanced down at the chief Lady. The woman nodded, signalling that she understood what Sam was about to do but remaining close. Sam tried indicating that he wanted her to move further back, out of sight, but she stubbornly refused, gaining herself an eye roll. Not about to waste time arguing with the woman, Sam quietly unlocked the door, opening it just enough to peer into the hallway outside.

-o-

Anger blazed through Sam at the glimpse of his brother standing placidly alongside the tall poetry critic from the banquet. The woman had one arm casually looped around Dean's waist, while in her other hand she held a long, slender dagger, it's gleaming black blade pressed against his throat. Letting his fear for Dean get the better of him, Sam recklessly yanked the door fully open, drawing his sword while quickly stepping into the hallway and increasing his speed as he closed the distance between himself and the smiling witch. Where so recently there had been silence, the immediate area was instantly transformed into a fast paced series of words, actions and reactions.

"Get away from my...

" _Weapon of the smith! Make known to he who wields you, the heat of the fires from which you were born!"_

Sam's command and movements were abruptly curtailed by the sudden brilliant crimson glow and the intense heat that manifested itself along the full length of his sword, forcing him to relinquish his hold on the weapon, letting it thump to the floor, where it instantly scorched the area of carpet under and around it. A firm jolt pushed Sam to one side, straight armed by the princess' lady as she swiftly stepped in front of him.

" _Seasamh medicine, éisteacht agus labhairt liom_!"

-o-

With barely a pause, Lady Garritass ordered Sam "Get your brother" before immediatly continuing to speak in her strange language, her glare fixed on the shocked face of the motionless witch. Without hesitation, Sam raced forward and grabbed Dean by the arm, hauling him away from the witch's grasp, stumbling when his brother unexpectedly began, loose limbed, to head floorward. Surprised by the speed of his own reflexes, Sam arrested Dean's fall and half carried, half dragged the older man through the open door into the princess' chambers. Catching movement in the peripheral of his eye, without stopping what he was doing, Sam barked " _Stay in there!"_ Hearing Brier Rose's bedroom door slam too again and a key turning in the lock, thinking _Good girl_ he got his brother's dead weight onto a couch; and all the while Lady Garritass kept on talking. Glancing back to the Lady, Sam saw she was walking backwards into the chambers, his sword held down at her side. As soon as she was over the threshold, she slammed the door closed, dropping Sam's sword to lock it while at the same time sweeping her free hand across the door itself.

"Coinnigh ar ais ár n-foe."

Turning from the door she gazed at Dean.

"I don't know how long that will hold for...How's he doing?"

The princess' bedroom door slowly opened again, to reveal a frightened young girl, looking much less than her grand total of seventeen years. Seeing Sam hovering over someone, she took a few hesitent steps towards the couch.

"What's happening? _Oh!_ Is that _Dean_? Please, _don't let him be dead_! His _roses_. He hasn't even seen them _bloom_ yet!"

Struggling back to an awareness of what was going on around him, Dean mumbled curiously.

"Oo's bin an' deaded 'ededed mi roses?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22  
_ -oOo-

"He'll be fine dear. Now, Brier Rose, go get something on your feet and put your robe on. Hurry, my lamb."

The princess obediantly scampered back into her room. Sam glanced over to his sword before staring at the Lady-in-Waiting.

"Who are you Madam? Are you a witch also? _Answer_ me."

Lady Gabbitass smiled and began upinning her hair, letting it fall loose to hang down her back. She tucked one side behind her ear and turned her head slightly. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the perfectly pointed tip of the woman's ear.

"I'm no witch sir...I'm the one who came after. The last one to bless the child with a gift on the day of her naming, the one who changed her foretold death into one hundred years of sleep. My name is Lizabella, or Bella if you prefer, and I've stayed by my little princess from that day to this...Ah, good girl, come here...Sam, we need to leave here, right now, you'll have to help your brother until he shakes off the last of the witch's spell."

"Don't worry about us. How do you propose we get out though?"

"When you're ready, follow me."

-o-

As soon as the door shut on the woman's voice, Delilah was able to move again, and her shock swiftly turned to outrage. First there was Florimond and the supposed betrothal, and now this! Never before when she had pushed her victims into this particular dreamscape had one of the seven made an appearance, and Delilah was certain that's what the other woman was, if only for the fact that she knew magic and was a spell caster.

"So, which one of them conjured _you_ up in their little heads then, you fairy whore?"

Things were becoming more complicated, and very much more challenging, than the witch had either anticipated or was used to, and it wasn't as though she was even bothered about the game anymore. She just wanted this pair of annoying humans dead!

"Is that really too much to ask? Well? _Is it?_ Anybody? _"_

Taking a deep breath, Delilah determindly cracked her knuckles.

"Right then. If you won't come out? Fairy godmother or not, I guess _I'm_ coming _in_!"

-o-

Brier Rose had been raised as a proper princess, she knew when to ask questions, and when to shut up and pretend that whatever was happening was perfectly normal. Of course, there was quite a difference between knowing something, and doing it. _And_ _anyway_ , she told herself, _this utterly_ _ **has**_ _to count as a Health and Danger_ _issue._

Pardon me La...Um.. ...Are you still Lady Garrittass?"

Bella gave Brier Rose a wink.

"My darling, I have _never_ been a lady!"

The princess frowned, looking confused.

"Oh... So, what's happened to Lady Garritass?"

Bella smiled kindly at the girl and put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.

"I'll explain everything little one, but first we need to get away from that wicked witch. Come along kitten, to your bathroom."

"That's awfully thoughtful of you, _really_ , but I don't need to right now."

"Fairycake, please? Trust me. There's a secret way out through your bathroom."

-o-

Once the four of them were all inside the luxurious bathroom, Bella locked the door before scuttling over to a large and ornately framed mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall  
Reveal your secret to us all.  
Mirror, mirror of silvered glass,  
Open up, and let us pass."

As the section of wall from which the mirror hung began to slide smoothly to one side, a voice murmured in Sam's ear, offering a substitute last line.

"We have'ta save the Royal..."

Sam clamped his free hand over his brother's mouth and smiled apologetically at Brier Rose while adding _"...So open fast?"_ He felt Dean's grin forming behind his hand.

-o-

Delilah irritably kicked the door leading into Brier Rose's chambers when it stubbornly refused to budge in response to the third open door spell she had tried using on it.

" _Ferriting fairies_! And _bloody nuisance_ Hunters! Of _course_ they're gonna dream about spells that work...They're _Hunters,_ you pathetic excuse for a witch; they _know_ magic is real. Never again! I'm sticking to lovely, _useless_ , none believers in future. Putting Hunters in here _has_ to be the _worst_ good idea I've ever had!... _Ah hah_! You damn _fool_ Delilah. You're going about this all wrong. You've _got_ to get a grip woman, stop letting them get to you! Ok...Right...Just _calm down_ and do your thing. Here we go..."

-o-

Rather than throwing yet another spell at the door in the hopes of out-doing the magic keeping the door locked and unmoving, this time Delilah targeted the fairy's spell itself. Deciding it was worth it, she resorted to using what would be her second high powered spell of the night. She knew full well that, having used Swarm Search already, there would almost certainly be a price to pay for attempting to completely expunge the fairy magic from the door, whether or not the spell actually worked. Steeling herself, she began the incantation anyway.

-o-

By the bathroom light, the small group could see the first few feet of a narrow stone flagged passageway. The walls either side consisted of wooden joists set into diert and horse hair walls. Huge webs ladened with thick grey dust hung everywhere like rotting garlands. The smell of abandonment was strong. Brier Rose scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"Don't the maids _ever_ clean this place out?"

Peering into the dark, Bella answered over her shoulder.

"No one but your mother, myself, and now you three, know about this passage my dear. That's what makes it a _secret_ passage. Let's light it up a little ... There, better."

A line of tiny dancing lights appeared, hovering just below the roof for the first few yards of the tunnel. Each dot of light was either red, pink, green, yellow or blue. Between them, they cast a soft light in the first length of tunnel, dappling the section with a warm rainbow of coloured splashes, helping that part of the tunnel to take on an Olde Worlde magical charm. Brier Rose was entranced.

" _Oooo_! They're sooo utterly pretty!"

"They're Fairy Lights my blossom. Come on everyone. Inside, quickly now."

-o-

Bella took the lead with Dean behind her, Brier Rose found herself with Dean in front and Sam behind her, instantly making her feel very small. Smiling to herself, she didn't mind too much. _It's quite a_ _nice view back here,_ _and anyway, what else am I supposed to look at? Somebody needs to keep an eye on the gar...Dean...That's a great name...Dean...Prince Dean...His Royal Highness, Prince Dean..._ While there were parts of the uneven roof where Dean didn't have to tilt his head, Sam had to keep his own head constantly bowed. Even so, he regularly managed to brush the top of his head against a fairy light and, each time he did, the dainty light would silently shiver apart like a miniature firework exploding in the night sky. As the small party reached the end of the first lit section of passage, Bella cast again, sparking more fairy lights into existance to light their way, while those they had left behind blinked out. And so, rather ironically, the fairy godmother, the princess and the two human Hunters were led by light, and followed on by darkness.

-o-

Delilah stood, rooted to the spot, her eyes closed while she let the initial sensation of her head spinning around and her muscles feeling weary and weak, pass by. If that was the only cost to her body of casting her spell then she was happy to pay up. Especially if the spell had worked! After a few moments, she reached for the door handle and pushed... ...Her heart sank when the door steadfastly and determindly remained closed.

-o-

Delilah glared at the door in front of her and turned the handle again, pushing much harder at the door this time. It still refused to open; but now Delilah was smiling at it.

"Who's a silly old...But strikingly good looking...Witch then? That's _right_!... _You_ are, Delilah Grimwattle."

Her spell of banishment _had_ worked. Delilah could tell by the slight jiggle there had been when she pushed at the door for the second time. The only thing keeping her out of the princess' chambers now, was nothing more than a standard, locked with a key, door. _Easy peasy!_ Delilah didn't actually need the relevant key to cope with _this_. All she needed in order to finish the job off, was to break the lock apart.

"Crack of thunder, shattered ice,  
Breaking wind...? _No_ , that's not nice!  
Ok. Broken silence, fractured lands,  
Breach this lock...So I command."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23  
_ -oOo-

Taking two strides backwards, Delilah stared at the door, zoning in on the door handle, and the key plate. She grinned in satisfaction when she spotted the first sign of a split appear in the metal of the lock, expecting things to rapidly head to the point where the locking mechanism broke apart completely.

-o-

Arms folded across her chest, one foot impatiently thudding against the hall carpet, Delilah continued to stare angrily at the door furniture. Although the spell was working, the split in the metal was lengthening frustratingly slowly, instead of being a virtually instant impact. _Damn you, move it! At this rate, that lot will've had time to knit themselves a nice woolly rope ladder and escape._ The witch guessed this was another impact from her having thrown two high powered spells around in one twenty-four hour period. All she could do was wait, and begin to wonder why she wasn't hearing any sounds coming from inside the chambers?

-o-

Along with feeling much more clear headed, alert and generally much more like his usual self, Dean was also struck by an acute feeling of embarrassment, thinking how easy it had been for the witch to force him to go placidly to her side and then to remain there, in some kind of stupor. Events were a little hazy from moving to stand beside the tall woman, but he _did_ recall a feeling of calm and relaxation. In fact, he had the strangest notion that he felt so calm, he had eventually fallen asleep. More than that. Dean couldn't help the sensation that he might even have had a dream. There were the tiny, flimsy feather light threads of something floating infuriatingly in his mind, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't catch a hold of what he might have been dreaming of. Instead his thoughts turned to whether it was actually possible for a dream persona such as he, Deannick, was alledged to be, to have dreams of their own?

-o-

Bobby had set himself up as comfortably as he could in a small, straight backed, armchair that he had dragged from the sitting area into Sam and Dean's bedroom. On the floor next to his chair he had his supplies, intending not to leave the two younger men alone unless absolutally necessary. What counted as a necessity made for a very short list, the first of which was: _Needin' the bathroom, (urgently)._ Next came _: Needin' to put out the fire if one started in their motel suite, (fire anywhere else wasn't his business)._ And finally: _Their suite comin' under attack by critters lookin' for an ass kickin', (said critters could attack anywhere else without any interference from him while ever his boys were stuck on a Hunt in dreamland)._

-o-

Deciding the air in the room was getting stuffy, Bobby made sure the brothers were covered up before going to the window and opening it a fraction. Before he could set the window catch to hold it open, the soft sound of his name came so unexpectedly, startling Bobby so much, he fumbled the catch and came shockingly close to losing the fingers on one hand, snatching it back only just in time as the window slammed closed again.

-o-

"Dean? I'm right here lad. Are you with me Dean?"

The Hunter's head turned slightly in the direction of Bobby's voice, and his lips moved soundlessly.

"What was that boy? I can't hear you, try again Dean. Is your brother ok? Is Sam ok too? Dean?"

For a couple of seconds, Dean's eyelids lifted enough for Bobby to see the glassy look in the green eyes, and his lips moved as he struggled to form Bobby's name once more, before his eyes closed and he became unresponsive again. Bobby's brief hope sank back into despair, and confusion. He gazed down at the younger man, his brow furrowed in a puzzled frown.

"The Hell? Damnit, I wish I knew what was happenin' with the pair of you, an' how you managed _that_ little trick son! Guess all I can do is wait see if you do it again."

-o-

"Where does this passage bring us out ma'am?"

Bella briefly glanced back at Dean.

"In the palace kitchens."

The princess' voice came from behind Dean.

"Excellent. I'm _utterly_ starving!"

Sam gave the princess a gentle prod on one shoulder.

"After all that food at the banquet? Impossible!"

The princess gave an over dramatised snooty toss of her hair.

"I hardly ate _anything_! I was being... _Dainty_. Like the proper princess that I am; in case you'd forgotten?"

"Oh. I seeee...Forgive me my ignorance, Mistress. Did _you_ know real princess' were dainty Dean?

"Dainty Dean? That's funny. Did you hear that Dean?"

Dean answered over his shoulder.

"Do _all_ real princess' talk as much as you do?"

"Not as much as _I_ can. I'm the champion!"

" _That_ I believe...

-o-

Bella interrupted Sam and Dean successfully occupying the princess and keeping her distracted.

"You three? We'll be reaching a flight of steps shortly. They're quite steep, so watch your footing everyone, especially you Brier Rose. You hear me?"

"Don't worry Bella. If I fall, Dean will catch me... _Won't_ you Dean?"

"Um, sure. I'll catch you...Maybe."

Sam chuckled at the same time as the four heard the drawn out sound of distant wailing coming from behind them. Brier Rose halted abruptly, turning about face, Sam only just managing to avoid colliding with her.

" _What_ was _that_?"

Sam turned the princess around again so she was facing the right way.

"I'm guessing the hag has discovered we've escaped. Keep on walking Your Highness."

-o-

Delilah was pulling on her own hair in her rage.

" _Foul fairy! Feckless Fey! Grotesque Godmother! Perniscious Pixie!_ I'm going to rip the points off your ears! I'm going to shred your wings into teeny tiny pieces! With my bare hands! Where have you taken them, _you nefarious nymph_? You are so _dead_!"

Nobody was within sight of the tall, demented old(ish) woman with the wild hair as she stomped furiously out of the princess' chambers and halfway along the hall, where she stalled, before holding both hands to her head, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Turning sharply on her heels, she stomped determindly back the way she had come, slamming the door to the chambers closed behind her. Once back in the princess' quarters she stood motionless, panting breathlessly, while battling to calm down, her anger now turning against herself.

"Not fit to call myself a witch I'm not! Bloody idiot I am. Nearly let those imbeciles get the better of you, didn't you? Let them run, it don't matter, so long as I can still trace the shorter one. I'll find the two of you, my pretty pair, you can bet your lives on it."

She glanced towards the windows, shocked at how light it had become. The palace would already be waking, beginning to bustle with people all busily getting ready to celebrate the birthday of their little doomed princess; and her betrothal to that handsome Prince Florimond. The witch smiled humourlessly. Now she had a plan.

-o-

With a bob of her head to the strange woman who was walking towards her muttering, the maid didn't make a sound as she dropped to the floor, her limp body quickly being dragged by the ankles into one of the guest rooms. Closing the door, the witch eyed her prize critically.

"Should fit...Might be a little loose on me, but it'll do."

Once she had stripped the maid of her uniform, Delilah uttered a few sharp words, clicked her fingers together, and the prone figure instantly fizzed out of existance. Donning the maid's uniform of an ankle length grey dress, white apron and white lace cap, the witch gave a curtsy as she gazed at herself in the mirror.

"The name's Marion my lord, Maid Marion, an' I've bin sent to hescort you to breakfast in Her Majesty's chambers, if'n you please Your Highness."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


End file.
